Malala

the
holy
name praised
crows scatter
to the leafless boughs
blood stains cloth and upholstery
it seeps into blue sky; a bruise over mingora.

white
veiled
women they
grasp at the
dusty ground and tears
hold mirrors to their impotence
you spoke when they did not; they are plagued by hopeless guilt

this
high
valley
is a wound
belied by lush green
draped across aquamarine scars
a place so close to heaven that men bound it with chains

of
hard
dirty
oppression
and no promises
the fear of retribution hangs
Malala you traced the words of reason right to left

rotor blades deafen heaven’s procession as life stirs
don’t follow the light little one
war torn pakistan
your gender
the world
needs
you