She stood in the way of the machine of hate
Her frailty her only protection
Naked in her clothes, her skin, her bones
In her protectiveness.
If it were Hollywood she might have won.
The machine of hate
Cut her down with its blade
Swept her under its tracks
Showing all its power of life and death
In its destruction of her flesh.
Her sacrifice did not even save
Those she sought to protect.
Not Hollywood, no.
But for truth and justice
A sacrifice still.
Which is to say, perhaps –
Some liberal terrorist-lovin’ traitor bitch
Got in the way of freedom and democracy
And got what she deserved.
Copyright B Purkayastha 2006