Our Lady of Sorrows
Alone among a narrow roomful
Of stressed young scholars stooped over laptops,
An ancient woman makes her way
So very slowly,
Pulling a small cart on wheels,
Keeping her balance with the help of a cane.
A hump that weighs too much to measure
Splits the seam of a threadbare coat,
Bends her back nearly in two.
Cheap canvas slippers barely conceal
Her calloused feet and twisted toes
Bearing the weight of too many years.
No one looks or bats an eye
As our lady of sorrows trudges by.