Florentine
The Weight of Light
She was born a year after Fiacre,
arriving quietly into a house already full of work and noise.
When I met her, she was shy,
her eyes slipping toward the ground as though to hide.
School was a fragile thread that soon broke.
Her mother needed her in the fields,
at the hearth, under the sun.
Childhood hanging between two worlds.
Florentine carries the weight of a girlhood spent between worlds:
still a child, yet already a keeper of firewood, of siblings, of the rhythm of the house.
There is a certain radiance about her,
a kind of light that persists, even in silence.
