Of her life we know little

Bread broken newly; made
Her begging words wasted
On jailers lunching with wine

Olives and risen loaves; while
Waiting for the torturers
To arrive

Did she beg to be freed from injustice?
To see her children?
To be forgiven

For the crimes she had not committed?
No, she begged the men to kill themselves
To make the world a better place

And when the farmer, tilling, found her corpse
She had no face

___