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what could be harder, she wonders
then this giving
birth,
bringing this one,
greedy for air
eyelids tight against light,
lips pressed to suck
a world
in the beginning
she remembers the dreaming
the angel
found her restless, took her
imagination, seduced her
by promise, by
temptation
dangled from familiar and beloved
words of sacred writings |
ritual has its obligations:
the magic
of two: turtledoves, pigeons,
dandelions and the humble face, whatever offerings
they say
purifies
past wounds, the fears
the wishes of the ancients for release
after seeing what they waited for
year upon year
she
leaves the temple
the blessing of simeon
trailing her
a cloying incense
the sword that pierces your heart
opens
your ears |
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