She Touched Her Belly
This place women mourn for
there own – prostitution of their
daughter, and empty stomachs –
deformity, and disease. No way out.
It’s March – oh I shall weep as I
see those abandoned – abused –
left on a street. Women must speak.
April. – “I shall seek not to deliver,”
she spoke – touching her swollen belly,
sick, and dying. Oh why not leave?
May – brave souls on the edge,
arrive to help those crying tears
and too – doctors, torn apart by war.
June – I sit patiently and no one hears
the pain in her voice as she tells me,
“I buried my child today.”
Ashes fill the street – women weep.