It’s not lost on me that,
in a less-enlightened time or
just a more conservative place,
you would have been executed,
stoned or beheaded for having
so many children out of wedlock,
for lying with so many men, those
would-be fathers resisting their labels.
Mama morta, perhaps giving birth
is itself an act of martyrdom—
the granting of life that demands
the sacrifice of so many freedoms.
And so I thank you.
And even as fields glow with
the debris of children, of charred lives,
a blood-stained burka hovering
over the horizon like a ghost,
I bless this country of red streets,
white gods and blue blood, this country
of questionable behaviors where,
even in these strained times,
we are free
to make several grievous mistakes
and treat them as if
we have nothing to apologize for.
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