Where the Sand is Red…

Where the tree branches are wide

In a faraway land where the sands are red

Enough for men to take naps where animals make their homes 

where strangers are no longer strangers

and wanderers wander no more

We screw up our faces seeing strangers 

Two moons back

A young lady visited the neighborhood

Luring lads and soiling their innocence

men trail after her into the mysteries of the night 

And erasing their memories of home

People talk, people always talk

“I heard she’s also from the other side of the great ocean”

They said of a new lady in town

“No, she entices other women’s men too”, they continued

They care less if the life of one they know 

could not define the thousands they know not. 
No one from the other side of the ocean is same

Even before she passes

Disgust and anger await her

Fingers point, tongues wag, and eyes stare

“She’s another destruction lurking in the dark”

No one wants to know her for her own self
 But when no one is watching or prying

She prays to the One above to bless her hustle 

And even then,

none sees her play with the little children 

But for an old woman leaning on her bent staff

Watching with wise dreamy eyes

waving her gnarly long fingers 
As the stranger trudges tirelessly

Her eyes betraying vain hope for acceptance.

2 responses to “Where the Sand is Red…”

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