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Bless the Daughter Raised by a Voice in Her Head: Poems by
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Beka
is on page 52 of 86
"Maybe we're okay, kid?
I'll rewrite this whole life and this time there'll be so much love,
you won't be able to see beyond it."
— Jan 19, 2026 05:32AM
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I'll rewrite this whole life and this time there'll be so much love,
you won't be able to see beyond it."
Beka
is on page 30 of 86
"Odor of unknown origin,
she washes her hair, smoke
of unseen fire -- memory smuggled
deep inside dreams lush with grief,
stowed in her blood -- an unrung bell,
an uncalled prayer, bless this child
born on sorrow's palm."
— Jan 19, 2026 05:00AM
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she washes her hair, smoke
of unseen fire -- memory smuggled
deep inside dreams lush with grief,
stowed in her blood -- an unrung bell,
an uncalled prayer, bless this child
born on sorrow's palm."
Beka
is on page 21 of 86
"The refugee's heart has six chambers.
In the first is your mother's unpacked suitcase.
In the second, your father cries into his hands.
The third room is an immigration office,
Your severed legs in the fourth,
In the fifth a uterus -- yours?
The sixth opens with the right papers."
— Jan 19, 2026 04:50AM
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In the first is your mother's unpacked suitcase.
In the second, your father cries into his hands.
The third room is an immigration office,
Your severed legs in the fourth,
In the fifth a uterus -- yours?
The sixth opens with the right papers."

















