Nora, 0
Nothing, at first. And then, everything.
Darkness, then light, togetherness, then
the opposite.
She is no longer one with her mother.
Instead, she is one with everything else.
Born with her most primitive senses, touch being the strongest.
Strange hands hold her up to lights that are too bright,
then place her down on skin she recognises.
She is. She is. She is. She is
Hungry.
She exists in an immediate world.
Hungry. Hungry.
She can hear only loud noises.
Hungry. Hungry. Hungry.
She wants only one thing.
Hungry. Hungry. Hungry. Hungry.
But she has never used her eyes before.
She cannot look, can only see eight inches in front of her,
and even then it is fogged and blurry and barely there.
No subtlety. She thinks everything is one thing,
apart from one thing.
Her mother’s face.
An expression she doesn’t know.
But she knows she is safe,
and she is warm,
and she is
‘Nora.’