A CALCULATION OF ABSENCES

I have been a woman, once.

Like darkness, my power derived

from the absence of something

changing its meaning in the years 

of my life: absence of freedom, 

absence of children, absence of God.

The white noise 

after the needle lifted its mouth

from the spinning song,

the awareness of a flame 

extinguished, finger and thumb

wet with spit, warmed by a quiet heat.

*

I have been a woman, once

in an empty room, the wick cool 

and black, the flame running 

round the edge of the brass cup. 

I could separate heat from flame,

conjure the image of happiness, 

change the course of a person’s life

once they’d belly-laughed at one of my jokes

or watched me sleep till a late hour

on a modern winter morning.

* 

I have been a woman, once

defining myself by minutes and hours;

things I had no control over, 

to be measured out neatly 

like the cooking of an egg.

I rejected what no longer served me: 

romance, sadness, alcohol,

the Gregorian calendar.

I have been mostly interested in the past.

Is this a symptom of sadness? 

Concealing oneself.

*

I have been a woman, once

on an aeroplane, leaning back 

in the plastic seat, black unraveling

through the window and the turbulence 

telling me I might die soon. 

It was a comfort to know my last Shema

would echo the final words 

of million of others, also unsure 

on the topics of afterlife, resurrection,

the question of prophets –

if they can visit us in dreams.

If the antonym of concealing

is to reveal, how can I do it

easily and without shame?

*

I have been a woman, once

looking down at my own body,

my breasts larger

and more motherly than ever,

not milk-filled or freshly kissed,

a reminder of something

I didn’t have and no longer knew 

I wanted. I was on a journey 

towards non-desire

the same as desire

but without expectation.

*

I have been a woman, once

after I became human

in the white heat

of a great city, shaped by things 

that had almost happened,

ready to kick off my shoes 

and run.

© Ophira Adar 2025

Published in Shearsman