My Child
For nine months, only, you were my child.
You slept and woke within me as I slept and woke
Within the womb of the world that enfolded me.
You breathed and grew as I breathed and grew.
A part of me in every sense –
You were me and I was you.
But in one raw and bloody moment,
Our oneness, in ecstatic agony, was torn open
And in a blinding flash of light,
You broke through
And were born.
My earthly senses beheld you as my spirit welcomed you;
And the cord that joined us was severed forever.
You ceased to be mine,
If you ever were…
Now I look for my child
And she is here
In these garments;
So tiny, yet they clothed you once…
And if I hold them to my face I can smell you,
The warm, sweet scent of your being,
So evocative, haunting,
Like the feel of the soft rugs that wrapped you
Now enclosing my fingers.
And my child is here …
In the waxy masterpieces that colour my walls,
The fingerprints and crayoned fantasies that choreograph your childhood,
The scrawled books and colouring-ins,
The remnants of your classroom and your budding, blossoming quest,
The busy importance of small hands and intent lips…
And my child is here…
In the scatter of well-l0ved friends,
The broken, the wounded, the one-eyed,
Gazing up from the bed and the toybox,
So powerful and so real in the love they share.
Memories, like toys abandoned,
Found later to be loved again,
So real, yet so elusive.
And my child is here…
In these photographs,
These curling, coloured paper memories…
Smiling at birthday candles,
Laughing at your own first steps,
The bubble-blowing, sticky-faced images
Of baby turned to child,
And the tentative reaching into womanhood,
The creative sortees into my clothing and lipstick,
A child in big girl shoes…
All these glorious, expanding moments captured
Forever on the film of my mind…
In the photo album of my heart.
And now you stand before me,
You, who I call daughter…
A product of so many lifetimes,
Yet with eternity as your future.
You who are so dear and so familiar
Yet a stranger still.
You are not my child.
You are the child of your own destiny …
And my role, so small in your grand scheme
Is an honour observed by my proud eyes.
My child is here in this paper, this cloth, this memory.
My child is just a creation of my consciousness, my desire personified…
And you are your own.
Just as I nurtured my child for nine months
With all of the love and hope I hold,
May you nurture your child with all that the universe holds.
I no longer hold you in my arms
But I hold you in my heart.
Where love is the only cord that joins.
For the short time I carried you, we walked the same path
Now I go on, and you make your own footprints.
On the day of your birth, I stepped back from your path
As your soul broke free and your walk began.
You alone are your child,
Just as I am mine.
I love you.
