I used to want to be a mother when I grew up

But somedays I see my own mother,

Glassy-eyed before the television, start praying

For her children                            

For their children                                        

Nusrat Jahan Rafi

A woman, a daughter, a sister

Doused in kerosene and set aflame by four disguised men

For filing a report against her principal for sexually harassing her

As if sexual harassment                                          

Was not enough.

They say life isn’t fair

But living without fear of this evil

Is not the same kind of fair they speak of

I am afraid that it is selfish of me to one day have children of my own

When somedays

I don’t want to exist.