. Apocalypse Women The Christians gather at the baby’s grave. There are no tall stones in the children’s field. Red scarves veil women’s heads among the crowd And one, eyes streaming with a grief unhealed, Turns toward us, mouth wide open in her cry, Her full-throat wail. The veil of years is torn. The modern world flaps loose and flies away. It’s not her baby, this time, dead unborn, But she’s been rocked again by age-old woe That will not be denied. We stood apart. And I’ll go home, take off my veil of black, And hug my own. But walls have fallen now. A village lost bursts from the world we knew. And none of us are, ever, going back. . . Monika Cooper is an American family woman.