XI. RACHEL

FuhrichJosephRachel

Favoured, I was barren
while she
bled life.

Sons:
pleading, kissing
a father’s hardened hand,
like lips on coals,
reluctant

until
I opened;
quenched
with life
and prayer,

watching soft faces
turn rough with whiskers;
a father’s fashioned colours
smeared with blood.

[For Daphne Abraham]

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