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Lisa Zaran

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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