NOT  SEEN  TO  SIGHT

Her skin was still translucent pink

But carried now, not seen to sight,

Yet present, bruises - born of grief

And shadow. Sore and tired, touch,

A brush against her shoulder, hurt.

Within inward gaze she gave herself

All the space for this. An ache

of such proportion, anything less

Than love, could not begin to bear

The burden or the joy of it.

Text: Jasmine Lamb                     Illustration: Rosy Lamb                      15.11.2008