P is for Pomegranate

“Come and see!” I call to my daughters

“I have a surprise to show you!”

They toddle over to me and together we crouch

On the kitchen floor

Huddled around the dusty red orb I hold

Cupped in my hands:

A pomegranate.


“Mommy wants to show you something,” I murmur, as I

Carefully pierce it’s flesh with a knife

Then dig my thumbs into the rind and






Someday I will tell them

It was a pomegranate in the garden of eden,

Not an apple.

I will teach them how are ancestors believed

There are the same number of seeds

As there are commands in the Torah,

How the Promised land was flowing

With milk

And honey

But also pomegranates.


Someday I will tell them how it once represented Christ,

How the red, red juices flow from its wounded side.


Someday I will teach them that they, too,

Will flow with blood once they are


That deep inside they contain seeds that may,


Bear fruit

How their bellies may ripen with the new life they carry

Within them.


Maybe then they will understand

Why their mama

Has this inked on her back;

Maybe then they will know

What this symbol has come to mean for me:

Body and blood

Beauty and promise.


But I will not say any of this today.

It is enough

To see their eyes widen

In awe and joy and surprise

As they see the ruby-like seeds inside

And declare

In hushed voices,



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