O smile, going where? O upturned look:
new, warm, receding surge of the heart--;
alas, we are that surge. Does then the
cosmic space
we dissolve in taste of us? Do the
angels
reclaim only what is theirs, their own
outstreamed existence,
or sometimes, by accident, does a bit
of us
get mixed in? Are we blended in their
features
like the slight vagueness that
complicates the looks
of pregnant women? Unnoticed by them
in their
whirling back into themselves? (How
could they notice?)
Tags: angels dissolve pregnant-women surge
Her body accepted my brutal seed and took it to swell within, just as the patient earth accepts a falling fruit into its tender soil to cradle and nourish it to grow. Came a time, just springtime last, our infant child pushed through the fragile barrier of her womb. Her legs branched out, just as the wood branches out from these eternal trees around us; but she was not hardy as they. My wife groaned with blood and ceased to breathe. Aye!, a scornful eve that bred the kind of pain only a god can withstand.
Roman PayneTags: life pain god death sorrow child fruit death-and-dying growth earth babies dying pregnancy blood womb nourishment eternal baby cradle god-s-love pregnant soil pregnant-women painful pregnant-woman nourish infant stillbirth sorrowful chidbirth death-inspirational
She was pregnant, of course: pregnant women carried out all the Tribe's sacred rituals.
Peadar Ó GuilínTags: pregnancy pregnant-women rites
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