There she lies so close to death
Rest, a sane world holds its breath
Realm of such historic pain
Sadder grows if she is slain
Or deprived of voice and pen
Stilled by cowards posed as men
On the crescent moon she rose
Dawn for those in forced repose
Whose choices have been long denied
As little more than children brides
Come to open wide the school
Where learning troubles ancient rule
Where acid in a woman’s face
Is not seen as commonplace
And misogyny’s ill will
Gives no rise to honour kill
Be free to breathe, love and roam
Come to live outside the home
Spared the patriarchal yoke
Shorn of all-concealing cloak

Girls and women come away
Wrest yourself from bearded sway
Hope the world is not asleep
Looking on without a peep
Brave Malala, slumber on
Wake when you are feeling strong
To your budding bosom hold
Dreams of those not quite so bold.

Paul Heno Copyright 2012