My heart beats
like jack boots
marching on dusty streets

The only place to hide
is beneath a veil
I fought to decline

They come 
to poison up the well
We’re waiting
it’s all there is

Each of my children
take a finger on my right hand
a little fist around each one

And my husband
grips the other hand
as we dearly clutch our tears

They come
to bleed this well dry
We’re waiting
it’s all there is

Future orphans
future widower
Will my hands
ever be mine again
Is this inevitable
or can my hands 
remain free...
 

[2021]. 

Liberal poetic licence with the truth employed but inspired by this story: https://inews.co.uk/news/world/afghanistans-first-female-mayor-waiting-taliban-come-kill-her-1152127