A woman lies asleep upon the path.
So still.
The concrete holds her like a bier.
Hair dressed neatly.
Faded sari rests
over tired bones and leathered skin.

Scraps of chatter.
Shadows glide and cast
fleeting nonchalance across this drear
concrete patch,
immaculately swept,
where nearby rupees flick and vendors grin.

Thousands, millions
hurry though each vast
metropolis where lost ones disappear
into subways,
where the damp has pressed
its hand on swags and human hopes are thin.

One day she’ll join the others noiselessly.
She could be anyone.
Perhaps she’s me.

Hazel Hall


Hazel Hall is a Canberra Poet. She has published haiku, tanka and free verse in a number of Australian and overseas journals and anthologies. Her latest collection is Eggshell Sky (2017). Hazel was a featured writer on the NaHaiWriMo website in 2017 and will feature on Australian Haiku Society Website and Colorado Boulevard in 2018.

© 2018