Topic: Strings (day 23)
Read another article about the persecution of Muslims in Burma. I didn't think that there was so much hatred in this world until you start documenting down all that you've read. It is ridiculous the number of persecutions in various parts of the world. This poem is for the persecuted Muslims in Burma.
Tug of War
She hangs by her neck like the majestic colored
flag of her country. The sons beside her,
nine and five, upright and dead.
From afar, you can barely see her.
Against the brick red wall, she is but a speck of taint.
Should you go up close, she will tug on your heart strings.
The yellow floral dress brings you back to the
one you passed in the store. The lipstick used to
mask her pale kissables are the same shade as the one
in your purse. You see the resemblance.
She is as mother, as daughter, as friend, and as woman as you are,
but where you have pearls, she has rope.
You can see the bitter-sweet in her lifeless face,
the sadness endured of losing her boys accompanied
by their prompt reconciliation in the next cruel world.
In a short while, the birds will feast in celebration.
Then, she shall soar with them into the sun.
