DOES DESPERATION HAVE A FACE?

Driving through a dusty Indian haze-
I see colorful saris dancing with grace-
Like petals of roses twirling-
In a cup made of gold but filled with dirty water–

Driving through a dusty Indian haze just for a moment-
I stop and look around this place-
And I ask a girl in her mourning-
“Does desperation have a face?”

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