Poetry, Grades 10-12: First Place

Zion — Shira Rabkin

You did not quake
from the weight of so many
speechless corpses
coldly baking on your
sunhot shoulders.
You did not cry
when foreign blood soaked through
your cracked skin and your wrists
were sore from pulling.
You did not stir
when gunshots pounded
your ears like fists and
vengeful fire spat
at your cheeks.
You made no sound
as bodies collapsed before
your eyes; it’s all
for you, they said.
But you never asked
for this.
They told you you were
beautiful, your body was
holy land.
Then they raped you and
claimed you as their own.
You lay motionless
as they climbed on top of you
and grinned
at God.