GENETICS a Poem by Award Winning Irish Poet Sinéad Morrissey

My father’s in my fingers, but my mother’s in my palms.
I lift them up and look at them with pleasure -
I know my parents made me by my hands.
They may have been repelled to separate lands,
to separate hemispheres, may sleep with other lovers,
but in me they touch where fingers link to palms.
With nothing left of their togetherness but friends
who quarry for their image by a river,
at least I know their marriage by my hands.
I shape a chapel where a steeple stands.
And when I turn it over,
my father’s by my fingers, my mother’s by my palms
demure before a priest reciting psalms.
My body is their marriage register.
I re-enact their wedding with my hands.
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[@truthbetold41]

simplicity such easy listening Ro

[@peaceman-lr1uy]

so relaxing wow. Never heard to this poet before either! This channel is an eduaction in itself

[@one-pt2io]

this is so beautiful top top top. amazing Ro, so dreamy. The sweetest voice x

[@zenpuppy123]

so dreamy made me think about which of my features are from my parents sweet

[@XLRCableguy]

perfection love it Ro. Where are you?

[@peaceman-lr1uy]

I agree, never heard of this poet before , want to know all her work now