A Poetic Scene

Winding, winding, winding
Up, up, up
Down, down, down.

“Donde vas Katie?”
Is what I hear when I pass by a dear one along the street,
I point up toward the top of the steep hill where more women are sweeping,
Paving the road in front of their homes for beauty.

Graffiti-stained concrete and beauty,
There are lies sprayed across a corner wall,
And gently laid flowers

An eary symbol that Truth exists.
Truth remains
Not hidden entirely,
Only enough to miss seeing it.

Aware, inspired, empowered
By the rarity that exists within the cycle
Resisting briefly
Reality, like my gut then, is turned on its own.

Freshly swept
Green leaves dotted with deep yellow marigolds
Bright magenta colored bougainvilleas
Wrap the narrow pathway

Paving the roads for this kind of beauty,
That goes…

Winding, winding, winding
Up, up, up
Down, down, down.