My maid broke up today.
Something I never thought
I’d have to say.
In my bouncing babyish bubble,
She doesn’t have a love life,
She doesn’t have a say.
She must continue
To iron the shirts,
To make the tea,
To cook tomorrows meal,
To keep us going
When inside
She is broken.
I stopped to ask her
If we could go catch a movie.
A paltry solution
For a fragmented life
Her world must be.
She must have been disgusted
That I thought mere fiction
Would fix her reality.
I hurt rather than help.
She helps through her heart unmet.
She doesn’t have any girl friends
Or a mother to lean on.
She must hold back her tears,
And bear it to the bone.
She is a real woman
A woman in love
Who can’t afford to wallow,
Or other privileged stuff.
I suggested a day of, maybe a week,
But an idle mind may make her more weak.
Nothing can repair her broken dreams,
Of being a bride wed,
Of sharing a bed,
Of someone she could call her own.
All of this she silently must mourn.
How distant we are, that I cannot reach her,
Or comfort her, or soothe her ruptured nerves.
This is a life no one deserves.