The way I saw her hands move
to pull
the 'pregnant' from the air
in the voice of the silent,
hands like whitefish
to cradle a discending child
into the
basket of arms swung low,
a slow and tender motion
that
pulled at me
like nothing I have felt since
that day.

And how could I have forgotten
the emotions
of a mother
and how could I have forgotten
the patterns of my life....
And how could I have forgotten
the language of the soundless...

language whose word for
mother-full
is made by a drop descending and then
dissolving....

01/10/2003

Author's Note: make a tear shape with your hand and pull it down behind the other. cradle it like a child. do not do what i have done. -amen.

Posted on 01/10/2003
Copyright © 2025 Vikki Owens