Amina

Such a sad face, young girl,

with your eyelashes as long as peahen feathers,

slowly rising, and falling,

in response to memories that are only yours.

I speak love to you,

but I speak a foreign language.

“I’ve never heard those sounds before.”

On the day you were born, with purity and potential on your soul,

The world overrode them.

Your big green eyes fill with tears,

as predictable as the sunrise bell.

You arrive every day, speak to no one,

and someday you will graduate into the world.

“I am nothing,” you say.

And there’s nothing I can do.