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On the death of a baby girl


In the shade of our tamarind tree,
I often think about you, my baby.
You would have been four by now,
Maybe just started school.
Your mother loves you, I want you 
To know that. But then you always 
question. You ask me, "Why did you 
stop me ? Was I not reason enough for 
Happiness ?"
You were, my child, you were. 
I stopped you, I did not want you to 
die in the way I do. Every single day.
My blood and tears are reason enough
To stop you. Maybe some other world 
Is ours. Where I can keep you hidden 
From vile eyes, words and touch.
Where I can see you smile, walk and grow.
Where I can beam after watching your laughter.
In the shade of our tamarind tree,
I often think about you, my baby.

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