The Silent Chorus of Asia's Missing Daughters

Written by: Rhys Matthew

The mourning sun struggled to shine
over the good earth
longing for uprooted seeds,
O-Lan’s second bamboo shoot
harvested far too soon.
The eighth page of 
my American newspaper
casually mentions
Sixty Million
Missing,
as is our rage.
Silent choruses
of Asia's daughters 
during this thirty-year long
monsoon of tears
cry out in unison:
Was gender our only crime, 
or was it the cruelty of order?
(to form an even 
more perfect union,
one child-no second chance,
second child-no first chance.)
Inhuman actuaries 
compute the 
fair market value of
rare Punjabi jewels as
the opportunity cost 
of their ultimate dowries,
while surplus men pine.
O blind new world
proud of its 
amniotic intelligence,
so unaware of the 
consequences of
unnatural selection,
last night I dreamt
Heaven’s narrow gates
welcoming millions 
scarcely born,
its vast expanse 
unable to contain 
our aggregate guilt, 
the billions of us who 
remain.