The ghosts of children
At my feet,
Dancing, encircling me.
Thousands of children,
Gone to the grave,
Before the sun fell,
On their thirteenth year.
This legacy of women’s work,
Women’s love and hands,
Holding them up to life’s door.
To see them reach up again to the light.
To speak with voices never taught,
The words of prayers for the dying,
That I wait to utter for them.
The ghosts of children’s feet,
Dancing in my heart.
I hear and sing for them,
Till I too can rest,
In the knowledge that I,
Will have safely passed this burden.