power unmistakable wielded by a mere wisp of a
girl trapped between two forces out of her hands
cupped to catch water falling from rusted pipes
carrying the life of millions between rotten leaders
and sadist terrorists…Fourteen years old, the world
knows her name—Malala—the namesake, once an "i"
attaches itself to the final a (testament to years un—
noticed), a poetess, a warrior woman…did her parents
know how apt the title was? Since age eleven, she fought
for the rights of female, of education, of erasing the Taliban…
three years spent frightened—but not paralyzed—by the
thoughts of pillaging and murder to come. For all of the
community's anticipation it had to happen sometime…right?
A set of bullet wounds to the head, five days in critical
condition, is the fight for rights and freedom worth it?
She lives today and as she wakes; the world knows that
nothing is able to stop the willing from doing what they
need to do…to save us all.