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The Woman in the Blue Gown
By Beatrice Cochran
There was a foreign country where
Women walked in darkness and
Feared men, would curse and snare
Should they make a freedom stand
For many centuries these women passed
Old traditions to their daughters, adorning
Themselves in vast
Darkness, until one glorious morning
A beautiful woman felt the breeze
Stir deep within her from that black hole
She tried to suppress it, to appease,
It to that concealed corner of her soul
But it kept shouting, demanding
To be let out, to be given a chance to grow
Amidst darkness of no understanding
As pain became intolerable down below
And one morning she obeyed the call
Holding the hands of her son
She walked quietly to the mall
By breaking rules she was a shun
She did not walk with a gentleman,
She thought to herself, “Surely they will
Not mind. My son is a member of the clan.”
She bought a gown of remarkable skill
The gown glimmered on her lithe body
When she came out of the dressing room
Her son, only ten years old, a true Saudi,
Nearly fainted. She looked like a flower in bloom,
His young heart filled with surprise
She was not his mother but a supernatural being.
He stuttered looking at his mother’s blue eyes
“Mama wear that gown home it’s freeing!
The mother looked at her child
Who pleaded with her to wear the gown
A flash of warning complied
In her head. Her son won made her frown
And the young woman at last,
Held her son’s hand and walked home,
The blue gown-trailing behind, like a billowing mast
Women and men starred like a tourist in Rome
Mother and son marched by
One man who knew what did irk
The family pulled out his phone, a bad guy
Called her husband, a bank clerk
And told him what she had done
He quickly left work feeling grim
He came home cursing and very stun
Men in the family stood around him,
And said “You know what must proceed
She cannot defile herself and expect to live.
She must be punished. It’s the creed!”
The husband picked a stone. Unable to forgive
She watched it fly towards her, gleaming
She closed her beautiful blues eyes now turning gray
The little boy with tears streaming
Down his face watched as they
Lowered his mother’s limp body into a grave
He cried for he believed that his mother’s disgrace
And death was his fault. And one night he was brave
And sneaked from the house to visit her resting place
And with tears on his childish face
He wept and told her how sorry he was
Then he started thinking of her, lost in space
He died on her grave, sorrow was the cause
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