• Vol. 03
  • Chapter 04
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That’s what he reminds me of.
Hard. Inflexible. Implacable.
She’s only a child, I plead.
Foolishness is bound up in the heart of a child,
And the rod of correction will drive it away.
His stoic response.
Her eyes water as it dawns on her.
He will never forgive me will he, Ma?
I wring my hands and speak again.
At least let her in.
Let her put her feet up,
And have a cup of tea.
She looks terribly weary.
His grasps his pitchfork tighter
And my heart constricts.
If I cannot reach him with my words,
Then all is lost, for my hands have lost their touch.
Her belly heaves as she backs away,
Sobs echo from deep within.
Her hands reach out to steady herself,
As she staggers down the unpaved path.
I have no more tears left.
I utter pleas no longer.
For what difference would it make?
He is what he is.