Thursday, 22 November 2018

i've been lucky. 
nothing good i've ever done was really planned and plotted. 
always willing to fall into things by chance. 

even you. 
you weren't in any conscious plan, but always 
i felt something inside of me connecting me to the idea of you. 
and when you arrived, smaller than the eye can see, 
a tiny world in the universe of my body, 
i knew.  

but the enormity.

the practicalities of what it all meant. 
torn between birth, rebirth and staying on the same meandering, comfortable path. 
which, in all kinds of ways, meant death. 

my foundations were rumbled and i chose you. 
and from now until forever i'll choose you . 

for those seven months could you hear my heart, 
forever yours, breaking, expanding, singing? 

can you, even now? 

in giving birth to you, i re-birthed myself. 

never a fan a labels, i am now holding tight to that of 'mother'. 

back then i was mistaken in thinking you were a tiny world. 
you are the sun. my sun. my son. my everything. 
you are the best thing i ever did, that ever happened to me, my greatest gift.

the privilege of my life is to love, guide and nurture you. 
in raising you i raise myself, 
discard the old skins and wonder at the new growth, 
the vastness and rawness of my heart and this universe 
in which we are links in a chain basking in the gentle light of these winter days, 
that will inevitably turn to spring, then summer then autumn. 
we are all a part of the spiral. 

this time is short.


tentaculitidae said...

i was listening to the winds speak
today, passing between twigs and
sprouts and unmoving leaves,
quiet and clear, like a colour
poured from one cup to the other,
ink in water, or water seeping
through the porous surface of rock.
clear as a whisper, loud as a thought,
perhaps centuries ago spun from
recent words or older, near a lake,
watching the afternoon light come
to a standstill in the seam between
the woods and its precise reflection.
i was listening to the winds and the
slight colours and listening to the
trees grow with incessant crackling
sound, yes like a fire and then the
smoke dissolving between the
seemingly still leaves and the
apparently blue skies in a near
perfect eternity between the words

cloudgathererholdmedown said...

teetering on the cusp.
looking back.
looking forward.
a farewell and hello.

the threshold was crossed
(possibly the halfway mark,
but who really knows).

the pendulum swings.

listening for bells and whistles,
for a joyous chorus of voices
singing 'here you are!'.
for hearts in unison,
in scarlet ground shaking throbs,
to swell.

just echoes of well intentioned whispers
and then my own voice -
the sensible, rational voice -
speaking silently and only to me.

my own knowing of
'here you are'
that's enough.