A Card, A Talk Show
All night insomniac, a mind can be.
Eyes have been taken, she can no longer see,
But tonight, a breeze carries her away
To his first laugh, smile, joy and play.
Broken hearted she senses deadly beats,
In her heart’s core, a love, a gem it keeps,
And a locket always hung around her neck
Where her son hugged; an embrace she once felt.
Behind the locket, the centre of her heart;
A place, and his picture, together apart.
Who will wipe away her aching tears?
When her son’s murderer has no one to fear?
For the leader told her, her son marked this country’s soil,
And the same leader’s footsteps, a country he spoils.
For today, she was once euphoric with his Mother’s day card,
Instead offered a talk show, from the government, a farce.
To cry out how he survived suffocating tear gas,
But when she’d start speaking, they’d ask her to pass.
Or the time he worked to heal those in pain
At protests to over throw the tyrants who reign.
Or even the time a child came running in his arms
For protection from whom claim cause no harm.
And so she accepts her offer on the show
Because to this leader, she wants him to know:
“My son is still alive, healthy as can be.
He lives in every Egyptian, ever so free.
Even though you might have taken him away,
One day, only you alone will have to pay.
Enriched I feel with my heart in one hand
Empowered in the other, I carry my land.
A land, you own nothing, not even a grain of sand,
A land, where only the strong, not the brutal can stand.”
She closes her eyes, to enjoy one awe stare
At the youth of her land, standing united with care.
Dedicated to all the beautiful martyr mothers of Egypt.