NKTheRoad

The dry sky above the road eternally waits to rain
To wash away the dust cloud from a growing stampede
Of four million women who fight the anger of our nation

The road will admit any woman inside its barbed wire fences
There is no concern if crowding is shoulder to shoulder
Entrance to its gate does not require ticket or key
No questions are asked if you�re rich, poor, black, or caucasian

Along the road heartbroken mothers often make desperate prayers
To separate and replant the tangled bulbs of their children�s lives
And with no dandelions to blow for wishes
Tears often flow down their faces

These mothers are the walking dead
In the intersection between day and the long night
They endlessly reach for a glass of water
As they dream of a peaceful road
That rushes past them, faster than milk

In every dying day as the cloudy moon claims the dark cold sky
More women get dumped upon the road
And then the funeral trees lift their weary branches towards heaven
To eulogize those women who will never walk on any road in our nation

Copyright 2000, Nancy Kilgore All rights reserved.