Their husbands had a mission, theirs was to obey,
To accompany, to nurture, to brighten up the day.
Their daily bread self-sacrifice, though not unhappily,
Captives in a gilded cage, not wishing to be free.
They never sang their own song, their silence would resound
The message of their consort, a world embracing sound.

The trustees of superior worth, proximity their recompense,
Unmeasured was their influence, untold their aegis and defense.
Khadíjih, Rúhíyyih, Munírih, Navváb, so close to Glory.
Standing on a different plane, Louise, Írán and Laurie.
Then Michelle, Coretta, Jaqueline, Kasturba Makharji
And other names that vanished from collective memory.

They walked with grace and mettle the long trajectory.
Bore common, coarse surveillance with quiet dignity,
In haute couture or plain attire, their heads carried high.
Some wore veils of sorrow to shun the public eye,
Some buried their beloved, some bid farewell before,
But all will wear a crown conferred by their approving Lord.