To see a world in a grain of sand and a heaven in a wild flower, hold infinity in the palm of your hand and eternity in an hour.

~ William Blake

Another Woman

Today another woman died and not on a foreign field and not with a rifle strapped to her back, and not with a large defense of tanks rumbling and rolling behind her. She died without CNN covering her war. She died without talk of intelligent bombs and strategic targets The target was simply her face, her back her pregnant belly. The target was her precious flesh that was once composed like music in her mothers body and sung in the anthem of birth. The target was this life that had lived its own dear wildness, had been loved and not loved, had danced and not danced. A life like yours or mine that had stumbled up from a beginning and had learned to walk and had learned to read. and had learned to sing. Another woman died today. not far from where you live; Just there, next door where the tall light falls across the pavement. Just there, a few steps away where youve often heard shouting, Another woman died today. She was the same girl. her mother used to kiss; the same child you dreamed beside in school. The same baby her parents walked in the night with and listened and listened and listened For her cries even while they slept. And someone has confused his rage with this womans only life.

-Carol Geneya Kaplan