Writer's Cramp poem for my son, Jonah, written on my second Mother's Day as a mom.
|I am your mother.
I may hold you clumsily close, my
sharp angles & skinny arms awkward,
but I hold you close anyway.
You find a comfort in my bones
as walls of a former residence;
as familiar pillars echoing womb whispers…
as fetal backdrop for acrobatic feats.
I may sing you nonsense, silly snippets
of all kinds of songs, lazily off-key
but I sing them to you anyway.
You find a diamond in my song
as the voice you heard awash, internal;
as divinity, a speaker in the sky…
as soundtrack to gestation's miracle.
I may love you with a racing heartbeat
composed of odd & syncopated rhythms,
but I love you with every heartbeat anyway.
You find a living element in my love
as the cycling pulse of ocean tides;
as habitat for emotion magic, undefined…
as something inside you that can never die.
I will always be your mother.