IEP
Heard women’s soft voices.
Most of them were mothers
Each of them talked of child:
“I sent him to school; a crime.”
“Was laughed at; a long time.”
They talked of children
Their sickness in brain:
“Could not read, eighth grade”
“My poor child was the same.”
They asked the government:
“For such kids, add teachers.”
Individual
Educational
Program
I smiled; almost laughed.
I recalled; then, Dashtak.
Children, wounded hands
Rocks-stones were gathered
Stone-bench they had made
School was in open
All tables made of air
In my car I shouted:
“Where’s justice? ”
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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