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By Sharon Ann Philip

The thick foliage bloomed skyward, welcoming

Wandering birds who vanished within, called it home.

Or did its limbs protrude unto heaven as if penitent

For the sins of men.

Cradling the dead, a bower strong

For the girls swaying off its pure arms, levitating.

Preyed upon. Violated. Killed. Without sanctuary

Until their cries, tears and breath turns to air.

A twisted banishment of Eve’s daughters

Aided by the crime of their caste, the ‘sins’ of their fathers.

If only they could speak, to spout truths

And weep blood. For this nation’s shame.

By Sharon Ann Philip

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