The pain wasn't evident
When you queued;
Nor discernible
When you opened a hand
No one reached for.
Your frayed coat needed attention,
Your legs bowed in the wrong direction
As you moved, frog-like.
I never recognized the shame
Behind ribbons you wore;
An imperceptible guilt
For lack of control.
But your eyes,
Downcast or averted,
Tried hiding the despondency
I once witnessed
In a naked girl,
Running,
On fire.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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