Labor.

A Bangladeshi woman sighs a stone into her lap
Wave after wave of fear breaking across her brow.
Her gatekeeper husband
Stands at arms before her
Carefully worded cage.
She doesn't make eye contact
But she doesn't need to.
Her rigid body howls all the words she could ever use to say
"I hurt." "I fear."
Words blind to culture or language or custom.
We fold her in our soothing whispers
Rock her with gentle hurried whisking about.
"We know."
The clock ticks it's disdain and doesn't miss a step.
Our hands fly to dab compassion at her wet cheeks
Sopping up her tears before they drown us all.