A mother to be, a blood pact
with the child and the world,
the daylight coming.
On the beach, warm gulf waters,
dressed in black, watching the
angel come ashore.
A soul may burn, or be the sun,
or just wash the stars with tears,
like this mother to be did.
A whispering in the air, sweet,
but their a sting in it’s notes,
and in this joy.
The tide rolls in, over her bare feet,
and that angel has come, seal unbroken,
the words decided.
The angel kisses her head, makes an
ashen cross, a blood pact with the sun,
never to be taken back.