" your father left. when you were in
the womb.
took his blood. and walked out the door.
while you were in the house of your mother.
in the house of your mother.
took his blood. when you needed it most.
if he could keep searching his hands. in the midst of your creation.
could hear you forming on your mother’s life. on his life. and
gather all his feet in secret.
all the other wild adventures of missing. he would drag you
through. would only ever be this wound.
over and over and over again.
your father left. when you were in the womb.
took his blood. and walked out the door.
it would be the first and final. of all the leavings.
— all the leavings "

― , Nejma