On the steps of the train station
where a wrapped bundle wept
with the indignity of being female
was all that she had left
As millions passed her by
on feet that carried them
to their own redemption
They glanced at the small bundle
and questioned
What price do I pay
With my intervention?

Millions of mothers held hands
with their sons
and asked for forgiveness
hiding their bounty
from the regimes eyes
A son, or a daughter
One is life
the other means slaughter
Those that birthed a means
to the end
hid their complacency
behind their sigh

As that little girl starved
and wailed her angst
to ears that didn’t listen
she spread her humanity
to all the passing feet
that saw, but ignored
the tears on her cheek
that glistened

Worldwide, we notice
whole populations
that give their children
to the dark
And we watch, and wonder
as their tiny life spark
withers
she died

There was much outrage
*but only you cried