In the Displacement Camp

In the Displacement Camp You sit there and look at me. In that look is all of life, pared down to the eyes of one woman who sits on the ground in an echoing, empty tent. You’re surrounded by the discarded rubbish of all those who have already been moved. Why not you? Veiled, you sit cross-legged on a mat. Your infant son lies across your knees, asleep... I hope asleep. You don’t move, cry out, accuse. Instead you look over the scarf that covers your face. Contained in your looking, and in the child across your knee is the pain of every woman who has borne a child into a world of injustice and pain. You have been there since the beginning of time. How long will you have to wait? The piece is

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