She sat quietly beside the crib
that held the tiny infant.
Wishing her a new world.
And wishing her the skin
of an armadillo if the world
would not be new.
And wishing her the heart
of her mothers if the
skin would not last.
And wishing her the strength
of the oppressed if
the heart gave out.
And wishing her a mind
of persistence and endurance
if the strength failed.
And wishing her the comfort of
security if the mind wondered.
And wishing her the peace
of death if the security
was broken.
And wishing that wishing
would make it so.

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