I feel sorry for mothers
An alluvium of clear dark waters
shines through the back of their eyes
As a mountain chain,
a veil of rock shields their bodies,
what would have taken a million years
just suddenly appeared.
They carry an oak
inside their throats,
but like a bird they sing
A hammer stabs needles through their backs
and yet like a feather she flies.
One could see a cloud just above their heads
and above that,
that they will see in their children’s eyes.