The temperature of the bullet that struck the mother bear
Was the blistering hot sand basking all day in the sun
Her cub was abandoned, not by choice
But by the hands of God
Like a prisoner of war

The Soldier’s body
Filled with led by an enemy soldier
Lacking a personal vendetta
While his victim lay
Having met his God

Is there a God?
Asks the Muslim woman
Coming of age
Her delicate eyes were wedding rings-
Outshined only by the golden hijab she had worn since childhood

Supremacy
The way of the one with the gun
The only God we can know for sure
The ever-flowing river
With the Hijab floating down stream