it was a time when magic was ever there;
the iridescent dawn rarely questioned until
the miracle of it overwhelmed,
spilling deep within, overfilling my spirit,
bringing dewy tears which would evaporate
into the still of the morning.
too many unsettling questions,
energetically dissipated by racing limbs,
by shrieks and laughter; by games,
as I tried to hide the differences,
wishing only to fit in.
I was going to give this poem the title “Now I know how my mother must have felt.” She was deeply religious, and that’s where she kept it; hidden deep inside, because my father did not allow religion into the house.
©Jane Paterson Basil