Sultan Trek Poem by Rashida Mack

Sultan Trek



Eyes closed,
half grin of peace,
she walks,
assured.

A still life,

skin the darkest shade of earthen clay,
soiled cloth drapes,
waist,
breast,
head.

Regally,
unbelievably,
projected in the corner of a photo,
ten follow behind,
her leading stick
she to the left,
they to the right,
all blind,

The spirit walks.

*www.Goldenphant.com

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