Returning Again by Carrie Young

Every meal of everyday
A memory of the one before
Rising from a mat on the ground
To pull water from a well
To carry home in a metal bucket

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On her head
She may be used to it
But that doesn’t mean that metal
Is somehow less hard to her
On her body
As she cooks
Over a smoky fire
Bent over now and still
Hours later bent
In a field of intimidating size
Her hands are losing skin
To the wooden handle
Of her only tool
Swung up into the air
And brought back down
Into the soil
This act her livelihood
Her only hope of income
She returns home
As the sun sets over her field
And bends to cook
Before returning again
To her mat on the dirt

Carrie Young

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