War Bodies

She wears it well,

The tunic that her mother and I gave her on her 15th birthday,

She was so majestic.

So heavenly.

I guess that suits her,

An Angel,

My sweet,

Loving,

Beautiful,

Angel.

My daughter,

Sweet Fereshteh.

Who lies in this pitiful soil,

Her hair which was as black as night,

Her eyes as blue as the daytime sky,

She was a beauty.

And now her skin is pale,

Her eyes have lost their shine.

Her voice no more,

The war has gotten her.

My sweet angel,

My sweet girl,

She is lost to me.

But I will weep no more,

For this beautiful,

Young,

Daughter of mine,

Fereshteh will be with Allah forever more.