काली | Her eyes are closed in this one, the storyteller says, because the world she sees is the world inside her. The faces hidden in her hair are all of us — every soul she has ever loved, every soul she has had to let go. Her tongue is out as it always is, in that quiet shame that became a tenderness. The light bursts behind her like a sunrise inside the chest. Sometimes the fiercest mother does not look at you. She looks inward, and finds you already there.
