That small spark,
Once nothing more than a thought
In the atoms of the Earth

A pulse of being,
Aware of nothing else than
Her mother’s love

With time she grows
In the eternal deep,
Knowing not her gruesome fate

That one day,
Spelling her lifetime’s eternity,
She is torn and discarded

The only other she ever knew
Feared or disdained her
And saw not the beauty of her light

321,384 souls
Poets, mothers and heroes,
A number in the dark