Indian Beggar Girl
Why shouldn’t it be me on calloused, twisted knees,
Begging her for rupees,
As she stands, straight and tall, looking down at me,
Herself the very monument to privileged empathy,
Reconciling injustice through her pious charity?
Her paltry alms of paper notes
Buy food to keep my bone-protruding body whole
While fattening for slaughter her own soul.
CARRIE DANAHER HOYT is a life-long lover and writer of poetry. It is her humble opinion that poetry is the highest form of human communication. Poems (she says) at once highlight what is unique and what is universal in humanity; the bond between writer and reader is intimate and sincere (kind of like Facebook, only better).
Carrie lives in Massachusetts where she is a wife and mother of three school-aged kids. To pay the bills (as her poems don’t yet do this) she works as an estate planning attorney. Beside family and poetry, she loves travel, volunteer work and concerts.
-TWITTERIZATION NATION: 8-11-2017