A Prayer for Glory

A Prayer for Glory

A working woman
Raises a small son
In the confines of a two bedroom home
With a man who throws dirty socks on the floor

What does she get for her troubles?
Her time fits neatly into little boxes
But often spills over
It’s rather a frustration

She pushes paper
To make the paper
That will save their lives
Engrave their path

Is this her destiny?
To clean a splotch of food off the rim of her shoe?
Or do as the man says
Before he has said it?

Where are her fancy heels?
Where is her week in the Maldives?
Her fabulous jewelry collection?
Its gone with her thoughts

They say her reward
Lies in the face of her son
In the look of appreciation
In her husbands eyes

Of course it brings her joy
The little mind that squirms into a consciousness
In her hands
Right before her very recognition

A burst of feeling
Few things can inspire
The growing plant
Its beauty exponential

Even through the spill of urine
Light shines through to catch its reflection
Defecation is a thriving sign
It is life

For child and love
For a job well done
A proud man gleams as he views her
He takes her in as though he is thirsty

The floor so clean she sees her face
The face of a woman who does
The potential
It screams out loudly

“Are you listening?
One tiny step toward me
I’m yours for the taking”
The step is labored
Obstructed by the must-do’s

“Engage me!” it bellows
But she strikes it away
The wound searing across its face
You are needed

What if she dies?
What if she dies today?
Remembered as a lady with a mop.
Remembered as a rumored creative

Remembered as a rumored legacy
Remembered as a rumored activist
Remembered as a rumored politician
Remembered as a rumored heroin

For it is only that
Remember as a rumored human.
The leader of the world…
And his hat.

You are the finest accessory.