There is a goddess and
I know her. Her hands are not clean,
And she is large and strong and not too young. She wears
A sweatshirt with a hood and jeans, and sells black-purple
Eggplant, spinach, bright broccoli, sixty cents
The pound at the Greenmarket at Union Square. Her slat-side truck
Has Pennsylvania plates, and she says she lives near Lancaster.
But I know the truth, because her calloused hands turn earth
To things good to eat, and green, and lovely.
Teresa Noelle
Roberts
Cries of the Spirit: A Celebration of Women's Spirituality
(Edited by Marilyn Sewell)
More Poems
Out of
the Box Coaching and
Breakthroughs with the Enneagram,
Mary R. Bast, Ph.D.
Copyright © 1999. All rights reserved. Revised:
October 10, 2009