The Unwanted Daughter

When I accept that fire is missing,

the unbroken breaking, the tone

of two voices whispering prayer;

this means disappointment,

the body’s commitment to grief,

the perfection of its fears. 

Only then, the reluctant heart 

expels what it couldn't refuse, 

builds hallways, windows and doors

to light-filled, private rooms

where someone else's daughter

arranges her hairbrushes, dresses

and shoes as if she belongs there,

as if she will never leave.