fruitful
you were not real to me
until i reached down and felt
the sopping curls exit me
and i spilled your body onto our sheets
the fruit of my undamaged womb
the crying proof of my reproductive wholeness
...and to hear the words on my husband’s lips!
to see the tears dance in his eyes
“a boy!”
adding roundness to our circle, our tribe
a male, a son, our fruitful earth worker
the unmistakable face of a third George
(the first born in 1907 and again in 1941)
the hair that first introduced us
now dried to the sparkling delicious locks of your father
pink lemonade “Lou” lips
fat of my milk on your skin...
these first moons with you
studying your pages: written of my own flesh
the impermanence of it all
tears tenderly at my heart
and while my own newborn-ness is reflected
in your soft, unfocused gaze
my mother-knowledge (taught to me by your sisters)
allows me to answer your lusty calls
with a calmness that comes only from experience
i have been broken in for you
--for George-Ephraim’s first moon
9 comments:
That. Was. Beautiful.
He is so lucky that you are his mama. You have to know that he chose you.
-H
beautiful. brought tears to my eyes. Love to you, my friend!
WOw. Just...wow. Teary-eyed here, as well.
how perfect and beautiful. i'm glad to see i didn't ruin your train of thought too much. ;)
xoxoxo
What a striking poem, L! I had no idea you had that in you (although now I'm not sure why I'm surprised). WOOOOF! Is there NO END to your talents?????
Wow, that was so lovely to read. Thank you for sharing it.
Beautiful...and so very touching.
That is so touching and sweet Leah. I love it. You guys are an awesome family. :)
thank you for sharing that.
wishing we could be there.
sending my love to you all
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