My breath is soft but my heart is heavy
a tender child of another parent
lay still like a rock and as cold as the weather
the river is now red
her face went pale
my heart turned black
****** in the name of my people
did this child deserve to die ?
maybe I am tired
because all I see is my child
dead in my arms
rotting like a fruit
silenced from her usual laughs
and forbidden from smiling again
cradled to her slumber
by a twisted lulaby of my own.