To My Daughters
Girls rejoice, I did not wish you other,
though there is so much blood from birth to birth,
and the moon’s monthly shadow, I love you.
Some say we have it easy here, some do.
At best it’s luck really. Then there’s the whole
in His own image thing. Give me a Her
sweet Mother Earth, Mother Nature, they scold
but at least they nurture. Brothers, fathers
you are still our blood sisters. Look to your
daughters, are they not both clever and so
beautiful? Do not squander such wise gifts
do not mock us, we cannot help our breasts
no more than you, your lack, remember this
even snakes have forgotten the apple.
© Sue Hardy-Dawson 2016
Sue’s lovely book, Where Zebras Go, Otter-Barry, can be found here.