Awakening this morning through exhaustion to the word “Mami” from a desperate little cry in the darkness in the other room. I move my mammoth body over creeks and cracks on the wood floor and somehow manage to crawl into her toddler bed and snuggle next to her warm little body. “Mami, I wanted you,” she says as she reaches and then strokes my bare arm, as she did when she was a baby and nursing. I can appreciate the comfort I can give her, grateful for the magic of that small gift. It is easy to slip into frustration over her high demands for intimacy, connection, comfort around the clock – sleep deprivation is the worst kind of torture but as I lie there holding my two year old close to my forty week pregnant body the power of our union illuminates my soul with nothing but tenderness. Her sibling is inside of me, sleeping, listening, and sometimes fidgeting.
I will give birth again soon.
Will be sent into the throes of an ocean,
thrashing against full moon tides
a violently sublime symphony
against which I have no other armor but
pelvis, muscle, and the innate will to live
and give life or is it death?
Dying from the moment we emerge
birth is our portal, a delicate threshold through
which we pass regardless of style
Where we enter is the unanswerable question -
life or the after life? Frightened as I am to enter
the tumultuous water, I dream of the calm…
To hold this new air breathing
life in my hands, press its tiny supple
body against my chest and nurture it into another
Two, three and more year old
With my mother’s milk, intelligence and love.
A desire so great, that the “what ifs” are worth it, the
fiery possibilities at which I cower diminished by
the soft breeze of life-infused potential that makes me soar...
Monday, December 24, 2007
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
