Carrying water

Last week our Sunday school teacher
told us about Mira who has to walk
three miles each day in search of water.
It most often comes from an open hole dug
in the sand of a dry river bed and is not clean.
She carries it home in a jar balanced on her head.
It can weigh up to forty pounds, sometimes more.
Mira is careful not to let a drop of the precious
cargo spill on to the arid ground.

I’m lucky that I don’t have to travel in search of water,
the sun burning the top of my head,
scorched sand searing the soles of my feet.
I just turn on a tap and out it comes;
fresh and clean and as much as I need.
In the past I’ve often left the tap
running while brushing my teeth.
Now I think of Mira and imagine
my own pot of water balancing on my head.