Mother of the moonlit forest,
Take this fearless heart I suffer,
Stitch the gash with threaded silver,
Salve this persecuted kafir.

Crescent whets as darkness deepens,
Sharpening the edge of anguish,
Such wounds wax and wane forever,
Leaving memories to languish.

Mother of the moonlit waters,
Take this fearless heart that bleeds me,
Stitch the gash or cut it wider,
End the misery that feeds me.

I wrote this poem in trochaic tetrameter.