Year 5

The value of silence – New year’s eve

They feel the need to poke it –

To advise or to wish you well –

What you left in the shadow behind –

What you have been trying to avoid to think about or wasn’t even thinking of –

The purulent scars of painful memories –

The creeping doubts –

The uncertain future and yet unanswered wishes –

When they could smile and hug and stay silent, and

let you enjoy the moment.

 

Second-skin pain

Craftily hidden

highway or metro

under the layers

My home

familiar comfortable

with all our things

My job my hobbies

engaging busy

with barely known pals

My husband

lively loving

and his arms

A protection

until

the knife-slash

The unexpected questions

the pictures

the announcement cards

Cutting through

exposing

raw flesh and bones

 

Crumbling ruin I cry

 

A broken vase’s glue

It is almost funny to wait.

Not the injections but the result.

How many eggs? How many chances?

And if it works, we say, how many?

To care for. Any. Any, I say.

 

It is almost funny to wait.

Almost funny to hope.

I could forget – all the times –

I could believe.

Almost.

 

Hope

The push of an angel on a wretched day

The blade of a friend through one’s heart

Always waiting to spring

Never failing

 

Last weeks

While I turn and toss

Right and left, then on my back,

Like a whale move –

Bones clicking, fingers swollen –

Cry in fear and in hope,

Drink my water, eat, and pee –

Filling a sea, I could be! –

He bings and bangs and hiccups,

Gives a small shake or makes a powerful wave,

Reacting to my hands (to our hands),

He rolls – is it a foot or a knee?

Is he listening?

Is he crying – laughing – hugging?

Is he coming?!

Warm and fed – I think –

He is mine – almost solely mine –

For a few more weeks,

For a few weeks only,

My baby, in my belly.

 

Mother

Will it always be this way?

I lie down an hour so you can move in my belly,

Then pass two running around or watching telly,

While you stay quiet, waiting, alone and uncomfortable maybe.

 

I spend time with you,

Gloriously happy that you came to be,

I wish to show you all, to kiss, to hug you lovingly,

But end up losing time so selfishly.

 

Will I one day know,

How much is enough and necessary for you to grow happily and healthily,

When to give and when to let you be, and be me,

Without feeling awfully guilty?

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s