My Daughters

Her slender relaxed body shines in the sun;
    soft brown hair flows like an avalanche to the ground.
A bit of green cloth does not attempt to conceal her sensory appeal,
    her breasts perceptibly rising and falling as she dreams.

I stand watching her through my bedroom window.
I wonder how many others are watching, thinking.
What do they think, what does she dream?
Why do I care -
    why should anyone care?

I wonder if she knows that I am watching.
Is she aware of the thoughts grinding harshly through my mind?
She is so open to the world.
Is she safe from the horrors this world can loose upon her?

I have a daughter, I have several, I have many.
The world is full of my daughters.  And they are not safe.
Pain-suffering-men are all a punishing reality-
    waiting to ensnare them, to rape and devour them.

The sun is hot, the air is clean. She smiles at her dreams,
    then turns to the sun another side.
Do her dreams rotate with her?
She would be safe, always comfortable,
    if she could now lock the door and dream forever.

But what angry side of life
    will my daughters face tomorrow?
Will they - can they - survive the heat of life?

Yes - my daughters will survive--

Some of them