Poem: Yours

They will slit my veins
searching for your blood, in vain
for I am not yours

Not in flesh, not in blood;
Nor have I known your womb’s warmth.

But let them search my soul,
and find your face etched in gold -
for I am indeed yours

Yours in being, yours in living;
Reborn in your heart’s warmth.

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A delayed Mother's Day gift for my mother-in-spirit. To the nit-picking world which survives on technicalities: my best friend's mother.