Lay for the Little Girls

You three
around your work
innocently
you follow

the example of
your mother
and women's work
is not toil for you.

It is your play
as you laugh,
and tease;
as you pound,
and sift,

your hearts light,
too young for
the weary sorrow
that your mothers bear.

What will your eyes see
as the years come,
your soft hands hardened
when play becomes work?

Will you be the first,
or a second wife,
and will your smile
abide, or die
with your first
or second child,
oppressed by the tears
you are forbidden to cry?

And what of your sweet,
child-clean souls,
knowing now only
a god you must appease,
a god far away
full of wrath
unable to keep
evil spirits at bay?