Advent poems 24: Mary, by Anthony Wilson

Mary

At first a fluttering
then a kick,
his fist pummelling my rib cage
when I knelt to pray.

They sent me away,
my belly burgeoning
shame on his name,
his eyes looking right through me.

Amazed, he took me back.
He muttered
he’d seen him too
but best not mention it in company.

I sang then,
hymning prophecies
that were poetry
inventing themselves on my tongue.

The riots and the cold
you know about.
The roadblocks.
That donkey.

Let me tell you
nothing prepares you
for that O
cracking your pelvis,

his fists flailing in air
as if from nowhere,
tarnished wings
of an angel.

They say I said nothing
but treasured these things in my heart.
Pain overruled my throat
and hasn’t stopped since.

None of us gives birth
in silence.
I was no one’s favourite girl
till this.

 

Anthony Wilson

17 Comments

  1. What a light filled journey your poems have been for me this Advent. Every day.
    With kind regards and all good wishes for a very Happy Christmas and a peaceful NewYear .

    Liked by 1 person

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