Drowned, hanged, or beaten with a stone
Men let wars take blame, send sons to die,
women are more apt to do the job themselves,
at once, no reconsideration, use what's there:
a tub, some ties and belts, a nearby rock.
Little thought wasted choosing implements,
opportunity presents, conjoined with hopeless
horror, fear of what might come: Who knows
what coincidental voices make the final call?
I gave you life a mother says I own you
another states I can take you out I've said
myself to a stubborn face, my daughter's
soft fists ready in defiance of my words.
It must take more than a toddler's No!
to stop breath, to hold down, to beat;
more than hardship, bills to pay, a man
gone bad, gone, nothing left for her.
What some women do when they give up
a life they can't endure or bear to save,
there is no reaching out, no simple cure,
children die everyday while Rachel weeps.