Blue veil draped over her head
like Mary
she creeps down the stony mountain
hoping the early contractions will pass
But there is no room for her
no room
no flowers or song
no birthday cake
We cover her hunger more darkly
in our mental burka
than any narrow-eyed Mullah could enforce
How shocked and hurt we will be
by the rage of her children.
How could so much pain detonate
from such nobodies?
Unknown