mother & scribe


You came to my arms covered with soil
head to toe, hardly

Able to see, just eight years old and already a thousand years older than me
cut by the butcher who harvested you from shame’s depth

His and not his, yours and not yours. The shame of eons
covers all that shines with a hunger for something shiny of its own. Then

We began together, you and me and God, with a warm cloth washing
first your tender feet and then your tiny hands. These would be clean
when we rinsed the soil from your

Eyes, that you may see your true color. And when you threw

Hatred like knives at me before the fork flew from your hands,
love's intention landed in a plea, One day let this lark wizened by hunger sing
freedom's song in a whisper to every ear



YAHWEH is written for a child who endured unspeakable treatment while in hands of a tormented man

Megan HollingsworthComment