A poem for my granddaughter

SUBHEAD: On the occasion of her birth early this morning and far away in New Paltz NY.  

By Juan Wilson on 14 April 2012 for Island Breath - 

 [Author's note: This poem was written on 2/15/12 for the occasion of my son's and daughter-in-law's baby shower in anticipation of their baby's birth. Their daughter, Magnolia De La Casa Kondrat-Wilson, was born early this morning in New Paltz, New York.]

Image above: From photo of my son John Wilson with his daughter Magnolia taken by her mother, Katy Kondrat.  

When Magnolia De La Casa landed on Earth
Those before her had coiled, shuddered and sighed.
She had no name then, and she wasn't really a "she" -
But she was free.

A spark, a wriggle and then what would be her was embedded.
And she stuck, and in doing so became them, and became herself.
 More complicated every moment, to the tune of her own heart, and that of the womb.

The Womb World is now everything and everywhere.
 Pulse – blood, juices, enzymes, hormones -
Motions – vibrations, bounces, squeezing -
Sounds – gurgling, laughing, crying, farts -
Sights – a web of veins in the glow, a shadow of a hand in the sun -
 It seems like forever.

Magnolia – an ancient tough genus, older than the bees, hums her tune.
The Womb World is a warm comforter on a long winter night.
But outside seems funny and exciting. They rub the womb's outside.
I kick back and elbow them. I can hear them talking to me now.

 There is more than one of them out there.
 Inside is a slowly collapsing universe imploding on itself -
My aerial acrobatics are reduced to squirms and twists.

Hey! Something's up. There's some rush.
Waves are rolling through the casa.
Leading somewhere?
 My face is pressed to the floor.
It's too tight in here.
These convulsions are new!
 I don't want to wake up, but the dream – It's getting scary.

There is only one way out.
The NOISE, the LIGHT, the AIR -
Oh my God!
I'm on my own – but in their arms.


No comments :

Post a Comment