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A SINDHI WOMAN
Jan Stallworthy
Bare foot,
through the bazaar,
And with the
same undulant grace
As the cloth
blown back from her face,
She glides with
a stone jar,
High on her
head
And not a
ripple in her tread.
Watching her
cross erect
Stones,
garbage, excrement and crumbs
Of glass in the
Karachi slums,
I, with my
stoop, reflect:
They stand most
straight
Who learn to walk
beneath a weight?
.....END.....