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Bloody Football Pitch
There I lie
Dead on the pitch
What did I do wrong
As I lay on my knees
Gun pointed to my head
On that football pitch
In Afghanistan
These big men
Turbans and beards
Rifles and Korans
Grabbed me from my home
Because I was talking to a man
Not my husband or relation
They struck me many times
Beat me
Covered me in the blue cloth
That covers me from head to toe
What a hot day it was
When the gun was pointed to my head
Why did so many people attend
This event
A public execution
Wild animals
It always attracts
I was no gladiator
I should not have been the centre of attention
I had no opportunity to fight for my freedom
They grabbed me
Beat me
Accused me
Convicted me
I committed no crime
I was a faithful wife
I died so that these fuckers
Could make a show
Of their power
Their law
Their Sharia
Their dominance
Their hatred
For me and my kind
I was just a woman
A mother and wife
Now I am gone
Because of the rifle
The coward riding in the jeep
Blew my head to bits
So there I lie
On the bloody football pitch
A fucking mess
poem
by
James Dylan
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