Another Woman


Another Woman

Today another woman died

and not on a foreign field

and not with a rifle strapped to her back,

and not with a large defense of tanks

rumbling and rolling behind her.

She died without CNN covering her war.

She died without talk of intelligent bombs

and strategic targets

The target was simply her face, her back

her pregnant belly.

The target was her precious flesh

that was once composed like music

in her mother’s body and sung

in the anthem of birth.

The target was this life

that had lived its own dear wildness,

had been loved and not loved,

had danced and not danced.

A life like yours or mine

that had stumbled up

from a beginning

and had learned to walk

and had learned to read.

and had learned to sing.

Another woman died today.

not far from where you live;

Just there, next door where the tall light

falls across the pavement.

Just there, a few steps away

where you’ve often heard shouting,

Another woman died today.

She was the same girl

her mother used to kiss;

the same child you dreamed

beside in school.

The same baby her parents

walked in the night with

and listened and listened and listened

For her cries even while they slept.

And someone has confused his rage

with this woman’s only life.

-Carol Geneya Kaplan

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Hopeful Survivors by Patricia Rodolff is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.