Afire

She heard the story

Of the girl who wrote poems

Under the desperate watch of the moon

And, when found

The girl locked herself in a closet

And set herself alight

She knows better

Of course.

She knows when to nod

And smile

When to cover her face and

Hold her tongue.

But she cannot help

The wanton words

the lustful lines

that escape her

in broken bits of song

a forbidden courtship in ink

scribbled hastily onto the back of

the veiled hand

rubbed away at a

moment’s notice.

She can’t let them see.

She wonders if she has the disease

The blood sin

The wax-wicked words

That set a poet afire.

-Christina

Note: this is a poem based on a true story, from this article: http://www.nytimes.com/2012/04/29/magazine/why-afghan-women-risk-death-to-write-poetry.html?pagewanted=all