As I think about my dad departing this life I wonder upon his description of me on my entry into it...
My dad said I looked like a skinned rabbit when I was born - v e r y long, pink, reminding him of his boyhood past hunting for food. While my mother laboured, dad was in the pub. Mum has no memory of the time of mine or my sisters birth. She was cut, forceps were used, alone and quiet in her labour.
Me the skinned rabbit
Him the hunter, with trap, with sling shot, with arrow?
Hope for a son
But a daughter, watchful, reflective, brave
LOOK AT THIS, LOOK AT YOU
As sensitive as him, him before
