The ewe

Raisa Anan Mustakin

She doted on my eyes,

for her life started in their hazel newness.

O mother of mine!

How the Earth must strip away my innocence!

Under your watering can, I rise

in the body of an easter lily,

and continue on as a lamb brought to light.

You take away your hand; I’m unveiled.

She chose me instead of her own life---

in the modern wilderness,

only she taught me to survive.

But to no fertility; I chose the silence.

You did your utmost, but I shall never strive…

Mother? O my mother?---

Please give a small try

to understand me, and my unchosen nature.