Short Woman

Not the short woman in question, but yet another strong Mongolian woman.

Down the halls

In heels too tall,

A size too large

To fit without


She thunders

In the empty hall

With each strike

Of her lightning.

Creaky doors sway

As she passes from

Room to room,

Each floor a new

Pattern of painted


Not quite applied


Passing by an office

Filled with singing


She peeks in

To view with her

Own eyes,

And out again

Like a pair

Of hurricanes.

She exits the hall,

Her thunder stolen,

Echoless in the

White sun,

Down the steps

And out the


Towards dirt roads

That lead to home.

Composed 06/15/2012

Author’s note: I wrote this about one of my language teachers during training. She was one of the most compact women I think I’ve ever seen, but there is something to be said about Mongolian women: They are tough. Tough in a feminine way, not tough in the masculine sense. I feel like when we talk about tough women, we frame them in a masculine sense of the word. Just my hunch about such things. I find the women out here to be some of the strongest I’ve ever encountered in my travels. It was very hot and bright this day as well. Quite the contrast to the cloudy cold I find myself surrounded by now.

Previous Posts

Campaign (Poetry)

The Halloween That Almost Wasn’t (Prose)

Next Posts

Smoke Mirrors (Poetry)

A Response to “Peace Corps Guilt” (Prose)


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.