My sister is a person

We have always mistaken
Her livid eye with eyeshadow,
Her depression with selfishness,
And her tears of sadness with joy.

We call a muddy pool, crystal clear,
Close our eyes to reality,
Just so we can sleep at night.

We know our neighbor’s wife is unhappy,
But we don’t speak up
Because her husband is our brother.

We believe that the men in our family,
Our own brothers and fathers can never be wrong.

Why is it that we don’t want our sister to be abused,
But we let our brother abuse his wife?

Do we all not bleed red?
Do we all not have the right to be happy?

Maybe if we had spoken up with our neighbor’s wife,
Her sons would not inherit violence.
Maybe her daughter would not mistake abuse for love
And feel guilty for giving birth to a girl.
Maybe she would not let her husband
Suffocate her baby because it was a girl.
And she would not leave her in the cemetery
With all the dreams she had for her.