Eye lashes caked with dust
and tears, booted feet forward step
leaving behind the years
Throat burnt dry, lips parched cracked
she struggles on, skin slick
with grimy sweat, a drop of which
makes a slow descent
down her neck;
down her back.
But those lips stretch, break
into a blood specked smile,
freedom refreshing her like a balm
(the day too hot for breeze to cool or calm).
Few plants might take sustenance now
from the parched earth, yet for her –
woman buoyed by new-found liberty –
this near-desert landscape an oasis is,
for she is finally free.