our land has its way of protecting our daughter

our land has its way of protecting our daughters

from men preying upon them

from names glued to their skin

from history burdening their bones

from honour savouring their soul

our land has its way of protecting its daughters

by piling up graves

in memory of their corpses

found at unknown places

unknown, my mother says, is everywhere

chasing our daughters

dead or alive

it has enough space

for their burial

not enough

for them to walk

with heads held high

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