Photo by Tobias Bju00f8rkli on

The parsnip soup was delicate yet strong..

Here the flavour lingers on my tongue

We had chopped fruit and ice cream in a tub

All I need is he whom I still love.

I need to be caressed but not too much

I shall beat off strangers with a crutch

For women are no longer victims of strong men

Hear my words and write them with a pen

My child

Before a year had passed I lost our child

No longer newly weds on the Church aisle

No longer pure and innocent and free

In love with death for God has tortured me

I am not Job my bloody sheets agree

I’ll not beg for mercy , hear my plea

O dangerous cliffs I’ll wander with the wild

For God has killed my heart and now my child.