sitting beneath a tree
a beggar mother you
see pondering to be
or not to be on the
other hand in silence
a little baby tiny legs
born in captivity wonders
bemusedly this world
of pain torture suffering
hate sectarian strife
that they call humanity
did i make a mistake
the womb was far better
its darkness comforting
motherly .. i was being
nurtured fed ..not anymore
says she ..withered milk less
teats sucking the life out of me
