demons going crazy
is what she sees:
rip the skins that do not match theirs
ridicule the accents they are not used to hear
religious books preaching different, they will tear
reprobate are the beliefs they do not share
revolting minorities, encroaching aliens, miniscules should not dare
raged by inquity or maddened by hunger, they give indifferent stare
morally immune, blinded by power, they go on spreading fear-
poly ticks sucking blood, segregating families- r.i.p
piece of mind from a detainee-
palms over her veiled nurturing womb, she wonders,
if she whispers to it
rainbow instead of black, brown or white
harmonious notes instead of dividing dialect
kindness instead of religion
fact instead of popular belief
globe instead of nation
if she whispers to it
love, compassion, respect, freedom, tolerance, peace of mind
will she give birth
to a human
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem