I have these dreams
of a Mandarin scheme-
a small lady with an umbrella
shielding me, pressing on.
Haggard is her wrinkled skin
but barely perceived as she hides
under layers of tattered rags
as stressed as her wary eyes.
But she never says a word,
she just looks on, knowingly.
Nothing phases her, and with her
I can feel the calm.
Like a mother to her child,
she never steers me wrong,
motioning ever onward,
she guides me steadily along.
I wish I knew why,
when she has no noticeable concern,
she cares enough to bear
this journey we carry on, together.
Her face is like none I have known,
and her stature…petite but strong.
Clearly, she is wise,
she could lead the way blind.
And she has a haughty little air
clucking her tongue at the rich;
gently cooing to the beggars-
the pecking order left in awe.
She has a handle on this lot.
These streets, her domain
host her conscious fight to lead
a friend or stranger right out.
She never asks your story,
and will not expose her own.
Your kinship brings you together
her love, or curse- your savior.
She will love you to the end,
when your eyes flutter open,
and she fades away with the dark
she’s brought you to safety, to light.