To part from the longing
I am full but emptiness will still gust through me I am full but longing will drip a moment before the new mother’s retreat.
Grasping the gates, Hunched over Fielding cries after the pain caught within her Something is opening.
I rose early tied by a cord to your wellbeing Which is unknown, To forty hidden days To the fear of gathering clues that go to waste.
Before a baby comes into the cot, They leave her in the field To listen to the jackals and peacocks, To store up dew and sweltering
You advise me that we are going Wandering. I organise a demonstration in protest But go as you command.