she knelt, a
mother of none, before
a mother of all,
tired between her
stiff legs, over bent knees
scavenging
with torn fingernails
pouring over the soil and stones
searching for her child
never born, never found
never told of love stories
and wishbone grassy mounds
deep underground in her churning
*****, burning viscera, spewing
laic songs of hope; night-time
lullabies, war chants, waiting
for the birth,
for him to climb with tender arms
from warmth to cold, toward
a searching woman lost
digging for her babe