Could God’s devout assail with flame a room
Of helpless innocents whose only crime:
Descent from their inferno without time
To don a hooded veil, so to their doom
Were sent? What god commands her to a tomb
Half sunk in earth, and rent with stone by grime
Stained hands, a helpless girl? What paradigm–
That knew the violation of her womb,
Then learnt this travesty her god offends!?
Whose crime could be the punishment of rape?
What god is this? What votary attends?
While gawkers ’round the world in silence gape?
If God gives love, redemption, hope, and breath,
I name him Satan, feignèd god of death.
This sonnet is part of a short sequence; click here to read it all:
David Emeron: Sonnets 
Code Pink, the feminists, and dhimmis…oh, my!
I often think of those poor young girls forced to return to their burning Saudi school building because they didn’t have their heads covered…I’m glad you wrote this. It is a powerful piece. Very beautiful. Very strong.
Thank you, dearest.
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I do wish such words could be truly strong. If only….
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I keep coming back to this haunting piece. It follows me.
It was about time someone wrote poetry for these tragic women and girls. So many who should be championing them have forsaken them.
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I was so very moved and saddened by their story. And felt such fury. And ashamed that these words were all I could offer them.
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Reblogged this on One Sonnet Each Day and commented:
Click on the title to see this formatted properly. I’ll leave these on top for the remainder of the month, in honor of those who died on 9-11-2001.
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This is my personal favorite at the moment.
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so will i
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I am pleased that you took the time to comment here. Few have been brave enough to do so.
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David, this is just plain hard to read. That’s a tribute to the power of your words, so you have nothing to regret if “these words were all [you] could offer”—this is incredibly potent and deeply thought-provoking, and evoked precisely the stories you were intending. Dark and gripping.
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Not many deign to comment upon these darker offerings. I am always surprised when someone does. Favourable or otherwise, most do not dare. I am glad my message in such offerings is clear. It is intended to be so. However, I do so prefer to write of things more positive–in which we all share. Things which bring us together–with which we may all identify.
As I wrote in a blog entry some months past: (paraphrasing) Both Anarcho-capitalists and Statist-Comunists fall in love–and quite often with each other; therefore I would much rather speak and write of such things. Sometimes though, one cannot help oneself….
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I do so agree with you. I might go so far as to say that the opposite of love is not hate, but fear, which leads to hate, and anything we can do, however small, to promote the one and turn people toward the other is worth doing. If one can do it with such eloquence as yours all the better! Cheers to you.
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I appreciate your kind words. Although I must admit I have been steeped lately in work involving a form of abstract set theory and therefore I cannot easily see a thing and its defined opposite as not being that which they are.
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No. Mostly ignored.
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I interpreted your comment “insults make me happy” above incorrectly. LOL. Thank you for your poem. I will re-read it to get the full meaning. I doubt I’ll insult you but I may have a question. Maybe that will evoke contentment as opposed to happiness?
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