Dear Eldest Daughters
I cannot help but wonder
who taught us
that to ask for anything
we must first be
everything.
I cannot help but wonder
Who breathed life to our clay
To live to serve
To serve to live
Till the day we return to earth
and our bones
feed the living.
I cannot help but wonder
which God made a sack
of our hearts, strong enough
to carry the lives
of everyone we ever loved.
Whether child,
or with child,
young or old,
abled or ill.
Age is just another whip;
no poor beast could
learn our trick
of balancing
a world on our heads
and one on our hips.
I cannot help but wonder
if a mule ever dreams
of being a horse
wild in the wind.
Or if the saddle bags
breaking its back
reassures it that
it has somewhere
to call home.
I cannot help but wonder
What happens when
we are no longer daughters,
nor wives, nor sisters
When we have no children
or children's children.
What is a pack mule
without a bridle?
Is it free
or is it abandoned?
© Sylvia De Silva, 2021














