holy moses wash

short poem considering the story of Moses from the basket's point of view

I wonder if the warding hand of Moses’ hallowed basket
Forced her wearied fingers to wave him fond farewell
Or withheld her prescient palm in woeful preservation
Of the prophecy she’d woven in her wicker palm

Her parshahs watch from the planes of my palmistry,
Praying for pardon from my parallel fate
To feel partnership only in parting like water
And rather, find pleasure in hoping for reconnection,
And purpose in craving to be cradled again