NANCY HUGGETT

Forgiveness

Perhaps it begins
in the body. Tethered

then cut. The raw wound
of severance clamped

tight. Swaddled and serenaded.
Lullabies like broken cradles

falling, falling, into safe slumber.
The soft fontanels fondled,

hard-luck hands shaping
a tender future beyond their

imagining. Brokenness at each
beginning. Cracked shell, split

carapace, skin ripped open,
life pulled into light, howling.

And the shush, shush, shush
of flesh cradling flesh.