I have a broom
that is to say
I've a colorful life
fresh air and
a path that is my own
I'll ignore neighbor's ridicule
the obstruction of relatives and friends
I have a broom
I've work
I sweep away today's and yesterday's garbage
clear away the filth in the streets
and in people's minds
I put on new work clothes
Looking in the mirror, I now understand
the mildness of my mother's eyes
I'll never again have to cast perplexed looks
into the street
into a corner
at the colors of billboards
neither in the pained wrinkles of my mother's brow
must I dodge fears of my inability
With the blessings written out by my mother' s eyes
I brandish a broom
and move on greeting the morning breeze
behind me, a clean street
...
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