From the warm, liquid darkness of my womb
To the glare, blare and cold of an all white room,
He arrives: my helpless, raging child.
For nine months I nurtured him
On my heart's richness
And visions of how he would grow fat
On my milk and wonder.
Now I must surrender these hopes
That we dreamt together;
While another mother dreams.
June 1971
I do not know the emotions of the writer that surround this write but I know the emotions that hit me when I read it.
ReplyDeleteThe simplicity of these lines serve to underscore the devastation of the moment.
ReplyDelete