So there was she, standing in the center of the crowd.
So there were the citizens, besieging her with the shroud
Of grim humiliation
Of groundless condemnation

Soggy was she; her body, rained with spatter.
Daubed was she, colored by a clumsy painter
Of brown women and men
Of brazen past and present

Solid was she, curdled by the hostile voices.
Numbed was she; unaware of her own chassis
Of second-class flesh ans bones
Of second-rate blood and veins

Now she is struggling to remove the Mud
Now they are throwing stones at her
Now she is ripping herself, tearing her tissues apart
Now they are aiming the stones right ‘there’
Now she is embosoming her unborn baby, inside, dead
Now they are rejoicing for every unerring throw
Now she is lying there, on the ground
Now they are approaching her
Now she is not breathing
Now they are satisfied
Now she is purified
Now they see

She is lying there naked, not covered with dirt anymore,
But with her own sweat and blood.
How beautiful was she...