Do you remember your former self
a womb
a home made of soft
distant voices?
the first shelter for your soul
was but echoes
an inceptive night
in which you discovered
a caress left for you
long before you arrived
A gentle singing Mother
whose gaze
you could already feel
whose hands even then
were preparing
every known remedy
for solitude and desperation
and I think of them know:
How clean your hands were
How clean they are
even after they have lifted me
so many times
for so long
What a peaceful place
they have become
Her heartbeat
would call
the first name you ever had
and she kept that secret
unaccountable word
for herself
so she could
in your despair
whisper it throughout the World.
