Child of

She stood
On a shard of
Broken concrete;
Numb,
Skull in her hand.

Pallid face,
On a breadth
Of tortured eyes,
Tears
On her lips,
No words
Into the light.

In the hour
Of darkest grief,
She watched.
No pain,
No longing
Visions of youth.

Old world
That died with
Her spirit,
New one
That offered
Her strife.

Concrete shard,
Remnants of
A picket fence,
And no voice to
Call her son.

Begging
Into the horizon,
Sans life,
She leads her way.

Another
Reality beckons.

Grave,
Gun-ridden,
She walks
Lives
Into her way.