To the Midnight Mourner

Late at night in the cover of darkness,
the young woman cries in her sleep.
She cries for the baby bird with the broken wings
who she buried early that morning.
She cries for her homeland,
a place where the sun never sets and the young never die.
She cries for her pots of flowers
that wilt in the wintery winds.
She cries for her brother,
her lover,
every man she knows,
because they are not permitted to cry for themselves.
She cries for her father,
who she never met,
and her mother,
who has become a stranger to her in this country.
She cries for her sister,
sent off to a loveless marriage far away.
Late at night, the young woman cries 
for everyone and everything she knows.
And she hopes,
that someone,
somewhere,
cries for her too.