Daughters

My stillborn daughter
disappeared for thirty years.

When finally I named her,
learned to mourn,
women the age she would have been
began to show up in my life
bearing other names
and other faces.

Some of them would joke
and call me “Mom.”
I’d laugh with them, imagining
I heard that unheard voice.

I loved them all
like daughters.

 

Maureen Eppstein has three poetry collections: Earthward (Finishing Line Press), Rogue Wave at Glass Beach (March Street Press) and Quickening(March Street Press). Her poetry has appeared in numerous journals and anthologies, and has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize. Originally from Aotearoa/New Zealand, she now lives on the Mendocino Coast of California. Her website is www.maureeneppstein.com.

Willawaw Journal

Share
Published by
Willawaw Journal

Recent Posts

Notes from the Editor

Dear Reader, Who knew that a can-can dancer from the posters of Toulouse Lautrec would…

2 months ago

Rick Adang

Eternal Return A crocus from the rotting flesh of a hedgehog, placed with the pansies…

2 months ago

Shawn Aveningo-Sanders

Full Moon at Montmartre Claudette’s a can-can girl high-kickin’ it under the red windmill. She…

2 months ago

Frank Babcock

In the Light of Peace --painting by Bruce King of the Oneida Nation The travelers…

2 months ago

Louise Cary Barden

A Quad of Golden Shovels Internal Conversation at the beginning of Winter Wet and beautiful…

2 months ago