DEAR MOTHER, DEATH IS KIND Anisha Sharma
Borne as pain in the soft skin of a babe, Do not cry, dear child, because the mother drowned your kin, And kissed her blue head as death strode forward, Do not cry, death is too kind. Loud cries of vendors in the markets, Borne to bear, the chain-ed bands, A thousand more red-tipped hands. Do not cry, dear child, when the man chokes you, Because he’ll swallow your screams, because your kin Sold to him for a small price, behind the red door, in The entrance to hell. Do not cry, death is too kind. The jail is unlike one you’d ever been in, a lady with The same red silk as before, blood streaks from her eyes, she was Borne to bear, the chained bands A thousand more red-tipped hands.
As the body is washed away by the currents. Do not cry, dear mother, for Death is too kind.
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