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Holy Mother – Tess Callaghan

Carved out of your body 

Without your permission: 

A blessing, you were told. 

Carry him, watch him die 

And thank him for it. 

You compact yourself 

Into a quiet, rugged ball 

So your baby can yell. 

Why must you close your eyes 

So that he can see? 

Mary, you look so small. 

Frail legs tangled together, 

Curves hidden by garments 

Heavy as his cross, so heavy 

You do not dare stand. 

Is this what you wanted? 

To balance precariously upon a stone 

Legs crushed, blinded – 

So he could sit comfortably 

For thousands of years? 

Caress his feet, let him see for you, 

Let him point to the sky. 

Hold him above your head 

And watch the world 

Hallucinate his wings. 

Tell me, mother – 

Do you regret being so pure?

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