Daughter of the Wall
At night, when I recline upon two pillows, I see them both, big arms
around the waist of a little girl. He loves her, no doubt, so much he
would, I know he would
protect her always, protect her in all ways, protect her even when she refuses him,
like when she falls in love.
He will protect her, especially when she falls in love.
His arms are wrapped around her fragile heart,
And his is fragile too, if only
I could open his chest out wide to show her.
Hands disguise what hearts are made of.
She’s self- assured. She knows he loves her, sometimes more than mum.
She leans toward him, and knows he’ll lie still, sit close, stand firm, hold her little
hand.
And I watch over them all night — I, her mother, his wife, the strongest of us three.
(Lantau, August 2005)