Mother of five (Mater Dolorosa at Rinkeby)

Stabat Mater dolorosa
wood sculpture, 13th century
Öja kyrka Gotland Sweden

Mother of five, son why did you not die in my womb?
From Rinkeby to Dubai now prison for life for murder?
You never came back home, reading your truth in my
eyes! Son, you grew up to become a loser, my shame.
Son, why didn’t you die in my womb? A single mother
and no man who stayed, I worked long days and never
coped at home, prayed Insha’Allah. Son, now I see you
in newspapers holding heavy weapons, bragging about
drugs and big money. King he think! But I’m that loser’s
mum! Five kids and one should have died in my womb.

rose, whiterose, white






A poem inspired of the latest murder at New Year’s Eve at Rinkeby suburb in Stockholm, one of those awful never-ending drug-related crimes and executions of gang members at public places in Sweden, now reaching the limit what ordinary people actually can bear to live with anymore.

Rinkeby, Stockholm “no go area!


(lyrics in the video)

This entry was posted in darkness, grief, hate, heartache, living in the world, lost, poems, poems by vonnely, Poetry, politics, reading, sadness, Sweden view, Swedish conditions, to die and tagged , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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