Iraq is a conservative, strongly religious society where many women are sheltered from contacts with males who are not family members.

Where I grew up
in South Florida
the guys all tried to hold
not you -- not right away --
but the door, your hand
your good opinion
and I know I was sheltered
in the way I was
brought up strict
religiously.

And I have left
many things behind
in learning along the way --
but I still feel the same
protectiveness towards innocence
the same despair
experienced at rough hands
tearing innocence from its socket.

I have told my 10 yr old daughter
about the beautiful
mysteries of her body --
how it is
all hers -- to share or not --
when she gets older and as she sees fit.
When she asks me "Does it feel good?"
I tell her the truth -- Yes! --
but I have also let her know
that there are some bad men
when she grows up
who might try to take the wonder
of the way her body works
without permission.

I tell her this to protect her
to build a wall of cognizance
against breaches that can break
a spirit. "Not me!" she says
"Nobody is the boss of my body but me!"
I hug her and she goes back to play
and so I understand her puzzlement
when she finds me upset
and I just wont tell her why.
"We can talk about everything!"
she accuses.

It's just that talking about something
hypothetically
and building a wall of protection for her
with my words
so she will not be the one
taken unawares and never suspecting a thing
it's just that it makes sense
accomplishes something.

But the senseless rape and murder
of an innocent/sheltered Iraq girl
the telling of it to her
makes no sense to me.
I don't' want to give her a particular
of the possible I informed her of before.

So I am vague, feel like a hypocrite
as I tell her
that there are some very bad people
in the world and that some of them are soldiers
that have hurt a girl
and I am sad because of that
but also because they have hurt me
indirectly
hurt her
and all the other women/girls
that we know/don't know
I feel like the girl those soldiers hurt
is a sister to us
that we do not know.

I think of dark fairy tales
in which the bones of victims sing
until their perpetrators are brought to justice
and the passage in the Bible
about Cain murdering his brother Abel
where the Lord says that the voice
of Abel's blood cries out from the ground.

I think of that
and how those soldiers
have killed their sister
in a way
because we are all related
we are all one family
if you go back far enough
and I think
What have you done?
The voice of your sister's blood
accuses you from the ground.
Your sisters bones are singing in the desert
they are singing on the wind...

But I just think it to myself.
My daughter is looking at me intently.
She brushes my hair back behind my ear
"Mommy, I want to have super powers so bad!
I would go over there to Iraq
and I would throw those soldiers into outer space!"
Me too, baby, me too.

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