FRAGILE JOYS Poem by Mona Kareem

Why does loneliness rob a woman of her compassion?

Why is it they make copper statues of their friends
While my friends melt away like wax?

Why do they play crosswords with our pains
While we raise our hands to give them answers?

Why are they "sons of the soil"
And we are "sons of dogs"?

Why do our mothers get lost in dictionaries, looking for a single swearword
While theirs wallow in foreign tongues?

Why do they kill time with culture
While we use it to kill despair?How does the divine calculator know how
To deal us out ten pains for every joy
But loses count of theirs?

Why do you sit up colouring the faces of the girls on the dinar
And I stay awake, in anticipation of the game they play?