July 25, 2018

out of my arms

(for beatrice, 2015)

out of my arms, now,
but in my heart
i remember the start

two years longing, 
nine months waiting,
forty hours labouring,
and (oh welcome) 
there you were

i saw your face
and time stopped

from that moment, 
now, forever,
a mother
when a child is born
a mother is too

fiercely protecting
and gently drawing forth,
sometimes falling short
of what i wished to do

each day was new
the lesson: begin again

watching you grow
the days, the years slip by
like beads on a string
i blink and you are eighteen

out of my arms
and into the world

No comments:

Post a Comment

midwifing the future

lately there has been much discussion about eco-despair, and the unavoidable degradation of everything, and the urgency of action to fight-...