When the bough breaks..

When the bough breaks..

In a chilly winter morning,

A stray incident, a small mishap,

Not much for thought,

For a less equal mortal she was,

A grave was dug.

No roses or poinsettias for her,

In a small hole in the ground,

Was she pushed into,

Not many to shed a tear or lament the loss,

For a girl of no standing was she.

Suicide she committed,

A heresy and a blasphemy,

For taunts and jeering she could not bear,

From peers of green notes,

She dared to study, in an elite school,

For dreams and aspiration,

Of parents who toiled for her,

But of no consequence was she.

A hurriedly uttered prayer,

For the winter chill the priest held in disdain,

No dignity in life, even denied in death,

Frozen tears marked her epitaph,

When she should be playing and dancing,

In a dark hole she lay,

A persona non grata she was.

But the bough break,

The leaf quaked, as angels wept,

The Lord shook His Head,

A child bled by society,

Bereft of empathy and equality,

He too her up, in His Garden,

For more than equal was she,

For He Atoned for the sin of inhumanity.