Small ones, grown from her womb,
whisper secrets others don’t recall.
In hushed tones they cradle her face,
force her eyes to lock with theirs and they
Mother to her once, now child she carved
with intricate detail, creation of her.
Daughter that dries her tears, knowing
who she used to be, before this life.
Little ribs house lungs that stay steady,
heartbeat ready to share.
Stare shared, history closer than the heat
of the fire in her heart.
She looks her ancestors in the eye,
through the face of her daughter.
Grandfather of her past, decades before
now Son to the Mother she is, but he
Soldier Soul poised, battle in his memory,
he doesn’t surrender.
Wounds of incarnations, etched in his
His lips breathe the breath of war
into her subconscious and she relives his
Trench boy, hiding in clouds of smoke,
Gunshots ringing, sweat dripping,
Angels hovering; death swallows him
Echoes of all they used to be, carried in
the Iris of their eyes.