Ellipse & For daughters I can’t call mine


© Hélène David
© Hélène David


I am the chaos of my father’s order
I am the conscience of his delight
I am the fantasy of his prison
I am the mirror of my father’s light

I am the axis of his revolution
I am the blood of my father’s heart
I am the darkness of my father’s moon
The imperfect orbit of his sun

I am the usher of my father’s shadow
I am the faultlines of his shield
I am the anguish of his freedom
I am the language of his dreamfield

I am the hallow of my father’s morning
I am the blueness of his night
I am the calm of his darkest passage
I am the mirror of his light


Ellipse: [Gr. Elleipsis, a defect, ellipse ‹ elleipein, to fall short; so named from falling short of a perfect circle]



For daughters I can’t call mine

If only you knew that the dead never die
You’d step off this path

Feel the moss coolly meshing your toes
Let the sharp green needles prick
Sit down and cry ’til the ground is soaked
Remember sky, earth, rot,
Old life, new – seed, egg, zygote –
Let zygotes be zygotes

Lie, ear to the ground, salty, wet

Wait for the goat god, Pan, to lick you
Ask him: what does he want?
Stop translating what he says
Let it rumble through you –
Pure Pan-ic force from inner earth

Accept his offering
Bow your head
Give thanks

Your earth father claims you




One thought on “Ellipse & For daughters I can’t call mine

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *