(i.m. Rand Abdel-Qader)
In a land far from here,
a girl fell in love
with a man that she could never wed,
so her father choked her throat with his feet.
He stamped up and down.
He stabbed her small breasts with a knife.
He tossed her shrouded corpse
in a makeshift pit,
and spat on it.
And she was gone to him,
and this might have been an end,
but a white rose tree grew from the bones –
and a song-thrush landed on it
and the bird sang loud and clear:
‘farewell, my love so dear.’
It trilled to all the world
as plainly as could be:
‘There is my father who killed me.’
The police were men enough
to know what honour was.
They heard the song and slapped the father’s back.
His sons said ‘well done’,
crushed the bloom, wrung the bird’s neck.
They lit him up a cigarette.