small rivers

it hit her
when she got home from the hospital
from her body a heart, a hungry mouth
in her body the heart, and the food to feed it
the rain small rivers on the window pane
her core open and sealed in different ways
another voice bawling and
an unwanted vow of silence
inside and outside another foreign terrain
yes please just bring her another hot drink
no need to ask yes she needs
help
just look at them the only difference
she is much older bigger she is
a daughter as well
pastel coloured blanket and a soft toy
the straw basket by the window locked
a few days before she can venture
down the stairs
and when they fall asleep
only the little one sleeps soundly
next to him she recalls
the ultrasound the heartbeat
and how it reverberated
across the starkly-lit room
louder than sirens
than the banter and raggling of street markets
above someone’s first world problems
above another’s hunger

small rivers

above above and then higher
along the kite a kid was flying
aiming for the sun and the lionhearted
her eyes look out of the window life
would never be the same again
she said this to herself this was the start
of her lengthy inner monologue

years later the world would finally catch up
with the bittersweet loneliness
of a new mother