No pin upon my atlas.


My map stands empty,

no pins to leave my footprints




and the seven wonders.

I cannot boast of a thousand cultures

swimming first hand through my veins,

nor can my tongue speak of any language

other than the one given by my mother

as she enriched my palette with

poverty’s favorite dishes.

I’ve not seen a multitude of sunsets kissing

new horizons nor watched as the moon spills

pearlescent love across lakes, upon oceans, upon rivers…

Upon earth’s most glorious waterfalls.

I’ve never attended a grand ball,

or danced across a stately hall.

My memories are not decorated in cultures finest,

embossed in pearls encrusted in diamonds.

I am not cultured.

I was not taught the fundamentals of elocution,

I cannot call myself a lady.

My name is not a sought after rose fragranced in class

and watered with the travels of a Prada bag.

I guess I am poor…

and every morning I thank the gods for this blessing

and each evening

as I watch the same moon ascend the skies

I thank the heavens in my addressing.

I have no pins trotting across an atlas,

just the essence of my soul that walks with

each that has crossed my path.

I cannot speak in the tongue of others,

only the tongue of humanity. I am cultured only

in the depths of trust and loyalty, taught

only to give and never to take to smile in kindness

and never be fake. I’m better than no man,

and no worse then a Queen, taught to work

hard towards all that I dream. I will

give you my last, I will give you my first

whilst quenching my soul and its insatiable thirst.

I’ve no pins, no seven wonders, no silk or cashmere,

champagne is yet to cross my lips and still I’ve never

learned to twirl from my hips. I lack culture,

eyes empty and mind filled with the

common mans dream,

I’m better than no man, rich or poor,

and worse than no Queen on land or ashore.

Karen Hayward ©2017

Image and words


One thought on “No pin upon my atlas.

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