she placed her hands
black and wrinkled
as they were
upon her belly
in the timeless
gesture of mothers
about to bear
a child

she then gently
cradled
that secret wound
which is
every female's
private treasure
before it is
appropriated
by a male

blood dripped
over her soft hands
as is bound to happen
when new life
trades warmth and wetness
for the heady freedom
of the outside world

but it was not
the flow of life
for she expected
no reward
to mitigate
an excrutiating sequence
of contractions
and distentions
and relentless pain

she looked at him
without contempt
or accusation
or even anger
for such emotions
were so alien
to her simple heart

she merely bore
her pain
like any mother
who knows her child
is doomed to die
before it gets
a chance to live

He stared at her
in horror
for he had taken pride
in being a hunter
killing man-eaters
and braving wild beasts
and humbling proud lions
with the swift trigger
of his shining gun

male and female
stood before
each other
locking eyes
in an exchange
of feelings
neither had ever
felt before

he shed unmanly tears
because
this mute and grieving
black-faced monkey
taught him
what he had 
never sensed before:
that his breed
which calls itself
humanity

had no more
and perhaps less
right to live
than her unforn child
into whose heart
his skilled and
expert hands
had just driven
a single
misplaced 
bullet