i think i was a mother once;
tied down and suckled
and rising dawn,
dispersed and praised and buckled blue
snow white and unstained, sunset gloom.

i think i was a daughter once;
down by the river
and near the sea,
look at me, for do i cry,
and soon you’ll hear me say goodbye.

i think we were a family once;
our arms circled together
and hung from the tree,
atop the hill we stood and prayed,
and eventually we were torn away.

where did you go,
Goddess of Ignorance,
i search for you, low and below.

mother taught me to pray
at dawn with knuckles flayed,
mind blank and reeling with secrets
clogged in my throat like leaflets.

goodnight,
you whisper,
and oxygen runs
away from my grasp
like the taste of spring
leaving at last.