this woman I met
she wed a married man
unaware of his shadowy lies
one day he left her
with but a letter
my dear
this woman i met
she planted the seed of a man
a father of two
his wife with kids had packed and gone
for what use be of a penniless warp ?
a freak car accident, crash landed him
30 feet down a bridge, on a dry riverbed
disabled for life, abled for a potent job
this woman and her child, I met
In a coastal village of Goa
the locals whisper
“whore and her son, no tag”
“dirty dirty”
her son exclaims as he shows me
his hands smeared with sand
he loves to play on the beach
this woman i met
I’ll meet her again
arjun bagga 
the ‘my dear’ line is a perfect end for that part
the irony of the transitional lines between the 3rd and 4th stanzas, the different connotation of dirty the kid has, as compared the so-called ‘adults’ of the village, I love that!
Thank you Greg. My headspace is right now stuck with the naughty politician. Shifting base to your comment section…
Mistakes are made. Woman pay the price of the greed of man. A wise man can see beauty in a hard life and be kind. I like the story in the poem and the ending. Thank you for sharing the excellent poem.
This poetry has been with me for over 2 years now and I have revised it a countless times to not allow a speck of dirt or doubt in my reader’s mind about this woman. Thank you John. I really appreciate it
Eerie. Because I went to Goa with my son. It was lovely but I think I never felt more alone (and alone is my default setting).
So, yes. This spoke to me.
And yes, you will meet her again.
Thank you Elettra, My poems are getting into a bad addiction for your comments. They feel worthy of their presence.
Goa does that to you. That is why I have to go there once every 2 months. Goa is 11 hour car drive from my hometown Mumbai.
I did meet her again 🙂
Powerful and excellent poem. I’m glad I came across the link in your other post. And I’m glad you found my blog, so I could find yours.
your words leave impressions on me, i need time to ponder…..i like it