She stands on her balcony, overlooking the
Busy streets, traffic, silence. It is warm
Outside; the mosquitoes buzzing around her
As if she were a goddess.
Sweat trickling down her skin, causing her
Thin cotton dress to stick on her back, arms,
Legs. . .
Everything is a glare, the sun the ruler
Here, blinding her from too much. She squints,
Creates a shield with her heads, and watches.
A bright sunny day, a day when she knows
She is dead in such a realm of life. Dead
For ideas, escapes, adventures, a journey, religions
Sanctification. She realizes this and understands.
Her sweat is her payment.