Her History

She stands, a mirror’s reflection,
Amidst a scattered heap of stones.

Stones beloved, stones despised,
Stones her past has never known.

Tick Tock

Every three minutes, a scream unheard,
Every five minutes, a stolen word.
Every ten minutes, a flicker dies,
A woman’s life, a silent cry.

The clock ticks on, a cruel refrain,
Three, five, ten—a twisted chain.
Why fingers ten, on grasping hands,
When safety’s lost in shifting sands?

I walk alone, the road unwinds,
A weary path, where fear it finds.
Does every tick bring violence near?
A wife struck down, a childhood fear.

Ten percent off, a hollow boast,
For women starved, at any cost.
Will losing weight bring peace, they say?
Does violence fade with each lost day?

Buses pass, a missed escape,
From grasping hands and shadowed shape.
Four, six, eight—a mounting dread,
The ninth, a chance, a space ahead.

A child I see, with eyes so bright,
Will love become a twisted fight?
Why numbers dance, a broken rhyme?
Why time repeats this endless crime?

Each chime a blow, a searing brand,
A whispered threat across the land.
A bloodstained cloth, a searing pain,
A silent scream, a life in vain.

Is life a bruise, a memory’s trace?
A mark of flight, a desperate race?
Red skin on screens, a beauty’s lie,
Was I spared just to buy and die?

Coffee cools, a stagnant brew,
A floating cloth, a spectral hue.
One woman lost, a border crossed,
Will friendship turn, a loved one lost?

For her, for me, a silent plea,
Every ten, every five, every three.
Search pockets deep for hidden fear,
A missing girl, a whispered leer.

Have you the touch that leaves a stain?
The callous word, the whispered pain?
Can love break free from hate’s control?
Can we rewrite the tragic whole?

Count to ten, or take a stand,
For sisters, mothers, hand in hand.
Kill the hate, the fear, the lies,
Let love ignite in gentle eyes.

The choice is ours, to end the fight,
From darkness rise, and claim the light.