She clutched herself in the midday sun
while waiting for the train,
A slanted, shoulder, self-embrace
whose body spoke of pain.
Her downcast eyes and haunted face
betrayed her hidden fears.
While sadly pausing to return
to the source of all her tears.
Although her hurt was silent
and she said no thing was wrong,
Wounded waves of her affliction
spilled from her in a song.
As a stranger I just stood there,
unsure of what to say,
No business was it of mine
as I watched her move away.
Her memory haunts my conscience
and I question if its valid
To care so for the unknown fate
and an abused woman’s ballad.
I watched a woman standing on a train platform whose whole visage and body language spoke of pain and abuse. It led me to write this poem.