FRANCINE
SAMUEL
MY INK MY TEARS,
THE SAME CRIMSON....
When the infant girl asks for what crime
She is buried alive, when the mother
to be is snatched in the night to abort
by force the baby female she is carrying,
when the young girl is forced to marry her rapist,
When no one is interested in their single story,
My ink turns to blood, crimson, grime!
When religions or cultures override and take over
Common sense, what can be done to thwart
The ignorance of mankind, for centuries continuing.
Don't they know it is the male sperm, the basic
That decides of the child sex, such vain glory,
My ink turns to poison, oozing acid, grime!
When the young mother is beaten by her in laws
For giving birth to a daughter, why don't they blame
The son who carried the seed, it's him they should
hound.
When the rich replace baby girls with stolen baby
boys
When the young child dare not exposing her abuser,
My pen bleeds and cries, forced to write words so
grime!
Enough, no more violence against women. Pause.
Let our girls grow secure, remove the veil of shame
From my sisters. O mankind, when you are underground
The infant girl questions you for what sin you cut
her voice
When you showed no mercy, none will be for you,
never
My ink, my tears, the same crimson, as I think of
your crime.
Francine Samuel
*********************
STOLEN GIFT
If love is a gift
It is not for me
If life is thrift,
No riches for me.
A gift given,
A gift taken back
Is a gift stolen,
My heart feels black.
Who keeps laughing
At me from above.
Acid tears falling
And rolling, can't stop.
A gift was given
And taken back
All have forgotten,
But my hurt strikes back.
Francine Samuel
********************************
THE SOUNDS OF HEARTS
Have you ever heard the sound of a breaking heart?
No, because when a heart breaks, it does it quietly
No drama, alone and abandoned it slowly falls apart
Silently, like snow flakes in the wind, twirling
softly.
Have you ever heard the sound of a heart in love?
Yes, because when a heart loves, it sings loud
And clear, rides on shooting stars and rises above
In the air. A heart in love is a heart high on a
cloud.
Their two hearts were silent and forgotten for too
long
They fused into one as destiny had always intended,
They do not sing yet, locked in an embrace strong
Waiting for the snow storm to end, hoping to be
mended.
FRANCINE SAMUEL
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