Egypt's daughter...

She sits
weeping
silently
at
the edge of
celebration

a woman
veiled...
covered from
head to
toe in
black
with nothing
but
her eyes
exposed

and yet what
happened beneath
her robes
is as
raw and
naked
as the hot trail of
tears she
weeps
beneath
that
veil.

the men will cheer their
freedom...
those
who
walk with
bruised
faces and
tired
feet --
aching from
their
march
through
Tahrir square --
but their
bruises will fade
and their
swollen feet...
soaking
in the cool 
waters of
the Nile...
will
dance
again.

but her
bruises will
take more
understanding than
time,
more reformation
than
revolt,
more forgiving
than
forging a
new
government,
even
more
mercy than
the
the Nile's
long
memory

I wonder
if the price she has
paid
will make a difference
for her daughters,
her nieces,
and the
mothers of
Egypt's
future...

remove the veil,
let her speak,
help her
vote...
and
heal.