On the need for a small coffin for a child born to a woman killed in an Israeli missile attack on southern Lebanon, July 2006.
A bloody, miraculous invasion and I clotted. Inception with no memory, in silence I began my journey, secreted even from myself, separating from myself, becoming myself, drop by drop, heart beating wildly at the very start, racing desperately towards life. I sounded like the hooves of hoards. Touch from the beyond, cadences of music, a second heartbeat my eternal lullaby, I kicked in rhythm, weightless in the warmth, toes, fingers exploring my tongue, free, pure, eyes open to darkness, ears tuned to that one voice, the music, the gentle rocking / which aborts with a blast the voice contorts, cacophony, light, pain as my fingers shear from my gums my lullaby is silent, I strain to rehear. Perhaps this is my moment, the beginning, perhaps this is life. I see the first light of the world, ripped from my womb, my tomb, I gasp my first breath and clotting I die.