1 minute read
Woven Affliction
Her warm numb fingers are dancing along with the sharp rhythm
In every swift move, slits and blood occurs without a warning
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Upon her hands entwine both tapestries and her poor child's life
Wails are a lullaby of her newborn son waiting for food Resonating sounds as she distinctly mastered the old pattern
Got no time to complain; she must be done until the morning
In the realm of truth, she's hoping her honest work would suffice Yet the treacherous strings of fate are so cruel to be true
And so she weaves
Jerelyn Faith Salibio
