She Sweeps the Steps

Perhaps it was the incongruity of this female caretaker sweeping the steps of this grand palace (photographed in Prague) with a simple broom that motivated the story told below. I did not speak with her, I don’t recall even seeing her face. I do not know her story. But this image has always had a powerful effect on me. So I gave her a story, a sad one to be sure; coping with personal loss! And just maybe, the simple repetitive task of sweeping will free her mind and bring some measure of relief even if it’s just for a matter of minutes.

Solace, in a word, is what she seeks

The columns rise above the fallen leaves

From the shadows of the hall portraits speak

And still she sweeps the steps.

The chairs arranged in long obedient rows

Awaiting an audience she will never know

They come from the palaces, they come from the courts

But only silence does she hear.

It is quiet now in the cool morning hour

Clutching the broom like a treasured heirloom

The movement a relief to assuage the grief

As the leaves tumble down.

How could we know the loss she conceals

She is hardly seen by those who walk near

They hurry on in their blind measured fear

Past the woman who sweeps the steps.

So many hidden stories never to be told

A simple task to find relief from the cold

A loneliness found in a loved one’s loss

And still she sweeps the steps.

The task is done but the pain lingers on

When will she reach the end of her will

Head bowed in silence, she begins to weep

Solace, in a word, is why she sweeps.