Tenderness

 All around me, the sky with its deep shade of dark.
 
The stars.
 

The moon with its shrunken soul.
 
Can I become what I want to become? 

Neither wife or mother.
 
I am noone and nobody is my lover.
 

I am afraid 
that when I go mad, 
my father will bow his downy head 
into his silver wings and weep.
 

My daughter, O my daughter.
 

Originally Published in The 2River View, 10.
1, 2005
Copyright © Lisa Zaran, 2005

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