Tuesday, 4 October 2011

New Women

In a city named Friend by two peoples,
she crawls under barbed wire held up
by one soldier, two of the four men carrying
long guns in their hands, one with a finger
on the trigger.  She is wearing yellow capri
pants and a white T-shirt, on the way to buy
sugar just down the street from her home,
and about half way to her grandmother. 
She carries no bag on this sunny day,
her money in her pocket.

In the hills three women stand by a road,
one with a baby in a carriage, another with
a preschooler.  They shoot with high-powered
rifles and pistols. They wear sandals and capris
as they practice killing fellow men and women,
families who live in the village, and watch
as soldiers fire teargas and bullets.  Goats, sheep,
olive trees, people have lived on these hills
for hundreds of years, but fire is coming,
and bullets come in many sizes.

Death in capris – yellow, khaki, certainly red –
toes still in sandals.  Weeds will grow.

© Lavinia Kumar

While the diplomats haggle, deadly tensions are mounting in the nascent Palestine
Lavinia Kumar lives in New Jersey. Her family includes a variety of cultures and immigrants. Her poetry has appeared in Waterways, Thatchwork (Delaware Valley Poets), Orbis, US1 Worksheets, and more.