On her mother’s tongue, the word is “andho”
blind unseeing, blind’s undoing. Blind blind.
In her mother tongue, the word’s embedded
in the dim, inside the well deep with night.
“Andho-kar” is darkness, synonymous
with a sky scorned by stars, emptied of moon.
Memory is praised and plundered, rued, like
a yew tree fallen to blight. You see our
weather as foregone conclusion but berth
is not a birth except when it is one.