I am a child of absence. I am a child of secrets spilled too close to the door. I am a child of hunger, and I am a child of fear. I am a child too big for the small space in which he wants to keep me. I am child who cannot fill the empty spaces he carries inside him. I am a child of blessings but not ones that belong to him. I am a child of grace but not the kind he hungers. I am a child of that particular desert a man can hide in his breastbone his entire life. I am a child of the deep well, and the empty corner. I am a child of empty voices and empty hands. I am a child of promises that break. I am his child, his hunger. I am.