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Stirring inside her womb
Evolving, gestating
The fruit of her loins
With his mother’s eyes
His father’s curly hair,
Another month to go
Before he enters the world.
Sadly his progenitor won’t be there
He will be lost at sea
Never to return.
She stares out of the window
Watching the returning men doff their caps
Nodding their heads in sorrow.
She brushes back streaks of grey
From her once lustrous hair
As the pains now get stronger.
She doesn’t want to be here
When the child, now five, asks
Why did the sea kill my father?
There is no answer.
The island, once a safe haven
Is now filled with deathly portents
For the sea widow and her child. |
