Thursday, September 11, 2014

Out of the winter blue

I gave birth-
it was autumn 
but winter came early that year

There were no stitches
nor bleeding pain 
It was as if
I woke up from a coma 
& spoke a third language 
only the child & I knew  

    frost, chill, ice- 
    my tongue suddenly understood
    what loneliness meant
     
In the many nights that followed
my hands would slide under her body  
to cradle her close but she didn't want 
my milk, nor warm blanket 
I became besotted with her small fingers
curled like spring buds & her eyes -
so bright and wild as purple star   

     stillness of night, moon 
     thrumming under my breastbone -
     my eyes open for first time 

Perhaps it was I
suffering from postpartum blues
who thought it strange 
that no one could hear her cry but me
that no one could hush her restless voice   
in my head until I take my pen & write

      I know 
      even before you were in my womb-
      I know you
             
I have no name for this child
but she is delicate as a poem 





Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - Following through on a Metaphor ~ I could write a novel about my writing journey but I will keep it short for now ~  Thanks for the visit ~

44 comments:

  1. Delicate and beautiful and graceful as you are.

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  2. Grace, a new favorite. This is wonderful. Really just beautifully done-- chilling and warm and moving all at once. Thanks. K.

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    1. Thank you for the challenging prompt K ~

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  3. Snow already? Blah to that, glad I don't live there. Autumn can stay at my bay

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  4. Why do I feel something tragic in this? Really strong emotions came up for me, Grace.

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    1. I didn't mean for the sadness to seep out nor intend it that way ~ Thanks Gayle ~

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  5. I felt the emotion in this too, a touch of sadness but beautiful write.

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    1. Autumn brings out the melancholy in me ~ Thanks Kathryn ~

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  6. There is a profound sadness to this, and such delicate beauty to your words. Just lovely.

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    1. I didn't mean this to be sad because in the end, it lead me to poetry ~ Thanks Ginny ~

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  7. This is really a beautiful and heartfelt poem, Grace. And wonderful that this experience led you to poetry.

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  8. This is both moving and beautiful, Grace! I like the winter metaphor and all its chilling implications.

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  9. nicely done... what a sweet ending... loved the pic

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  10. 'Delicate as a poem' ~ love these last two lines~ nice autumn melancholy xx

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  11. I think this is the first time I've really read something that truly make me understand something that I can never feel. The balance between sadness and joy, just the first sentence of winter coming early capture the mood so well. That would be a perfect sentence to start a piece of prose to.. (I'm thinking a short story from Alice Munro).. Stunning

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  12. Also I felt sadness, but in reading some comments, I've come in moments, to realize that melancholy can produce peace and calm. Stretching the connections, I can even visualize joy out there.

    All written so well..., by Grace!

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  13. I liked it without a metaphor too, Grace. Either way. It is a little on the weird side either way. I loved the line, "were no stitches nor bleeding pain It was as if I woke up from a coma & spoke a third language only the child & I knew" with the 'coma' being a little hint of what was to follow. (would have an entirely different meaning if it were a "period")

    And then the lines, "I suffering ... thought it strange that no one could hear her cry but me that no one could hush her restless voice in my head until ..." meant a child just for you until your poem was finished.
    (or was that crazy child the 'poem'?)
    ..

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    1. The child is the poem, smiles ~ I am using the extended metaphor in this writing exercise ~ Thanks Jim ~

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  14. it is interesting what makes us start writing - strong emotions in this grace - def. a passion that can be felt in your words

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  15. Postpartum depression is a pain like no other...a winter suddenly surrounds you and it seems only lone wolves can hear your wails as you hear theirs, but there is not solace in that. Finding words for that experience and time saved the Grace ;)

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  16. A three-deep meditation here, equating the writing journey as one of winter births, serial separations, bringing life into and out of cold blue. Art imitates life, is the mirror of nature, or our nature, which is hidden, defies explanation. Keeps us writing poems, though. Very delicate and savage at the same time.

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  17. Delicately woven and then strong at the end with weather setting in . So well done. The end like a refreshing blast of cold air saying snap out of it! Following the story line that is.

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  18. I have witnessed postpartum depression with two of my daughters, & it is heartbreaking for all concerned; a flaw in Nature, a hunk of inequity women too often have to face alone in the dark. Grace, this is my favorite of yours, it is stunning, beautiful, rimmed & rife with incredible emotion, passion, wonder. It is my best read so far out on the trail; my God, just incredible.

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  19. This is beautiful Grace. It evokes the rejection by someone special as a child, perhaps our own internal child, how sad that can make us, how cold we would feel. But nice that you found poetry to help warm you.

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  20. Really the perfect metaphor, especially the lines 'she didn't want my milk, nor warm blanket...' and the knowing you would know her, before she came--how often our poems seem to fight us, to throw off the nice warm adverbs and neat endings we choose for them, and how they always seem our beloved children, with eyes like purple stars, even when they give us the most difficulty..some really luminous writing here, Grace.

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  21. Beautiful and poignant "she is delicate as a poem".

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  22. Sensitively conceived and sensitively realized, Grace. A beautiful poem.

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  23. Sensitively conceived and sensitively realized, Grace. A beautiful creation.

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  24. This is so beautiful. I especially like....
    "curled like spring buds & her eyes -
    so bright and wild as purple star"

    And the weather out west makes me feel warm at 16 Celsius in my part of Canada today...wow!

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  25. I like this but as a pragmatist i think it's still good i can believe that climate change is a lie.

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  26. I felt sadness, but followed by resurrection, a rebirth, when the "baby" became real and whole upon emergence. Beautifully written.

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  27. really beautiful...a touch of sadness, but the feeling of love and caring steals it away...I enjoyed the offset italicized stanzas...they (alone) speak a beautiful tale.

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  28. Great poem. You set up conflict in the first stanza already. Nicely done!

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  29. Ah, this is so beautiful and tender and speaks of my own motherhood. :-) Beautiful writing as always, Grace. :-)

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Thank you for your comments and visit. I appreciate them ~