Poesía

Aymara Lady

An Aymara lady sat outside the Cathedral

In Santa Cruz; she was begging

With three children, one at her breast.

She was young, beautiful, dignified;

Sad, but not broken.  She looked

Serenely indigenous in her shapely hat

And green dress.  I asked her from where she came:

“Potosi.”  Had her husband deserted her,

Or had he and she decided this

Was the best way to survive?

God knows, but He does not exist.

That lady existed, and was sweetly grateful

For the little money I gave.