Friday, 20 September 2013

Ghazal for Joel


Little hummingbird darts and flickers

in and out with your fierce heart.

 

Hope turns to promise. We watch

your eager body twitch to dance, lips to speak.

 

Little fish – you expand in your dark pool,

filling with light. Weave your bright spool of thread.

 

Determined heart beating your happy life.

A quiet bubble; a place to think on your destiny.

 

This fear in me dissolves

with each small shift in my belly; is it you? Or breakfast?

 

Squirmy baby, like your brother.

Will either of you sit still for pictures?

 

Last night I dreamed of your sister, the one

who went back to the stars. She was happy you did come.

 

Butterfly wings, your curious limbs

like tiny chisels, softly burrowing into my insides.

 

After all the pokes, the intrusions,

we learn what we knew – your perfect being.

 

Little water bug, tiny warrior, you shield your precious heart:

battle angry red blood cells with a fork and knife in their hands.      10

 

I collapse on the couch, after a desk-sitting day,

your brother’s evening protests. You fuss at the outside chaos.

 

You ride your tricycle, deep in my belly

tiny feet peddle towards the outside.

 

Soft swirls of morning, you rise with the sun;

swift kicks of evening, you trace the patterns of the moon.

 

Small hand on your head, hiding

the secret thought of being unborn.

 

Your brother marks you with his purple stamp,

do you know the love in his dimpled fist?

 

 

As you grow, I bend; resist gravity with hands on hips.

I intend to hold this ground.

 

After poking the hive, the bees lick their honey wounds;

sturdy their small legs back in the work of being.

 

Third time lucky:  the last round of intrusion,

you grow into a fusion of medicine, new blood and love.

 

You pass each test, each doubt, and smile in your safe place.

Each mile behind you; bright ribbons ahead.

 

Our little fighter, brought from a starry night;

this journey is further than your expected arrival.                  20

 

The heat makes me slow while you sleep inside,

a curled, twitchy life:  I wonder at your dreams.

 

A full moon in my belly eclipses every part.

My days and memory dissolve in gravity.

 

I wake in intervals before sunrise, your demands

already lift me from sleep – the quiet, dark places.

 

This midnight practice, the robbing of night:

a preparation. The ration of lucid and surreal thought in motion.

 

The weight of caring for two:  a sweet anvil in my heart.

Your due date approaches, veiled in mystery, love and apprehension.

 

I want to coax you into the world, to have you

travel through me:  a smooth current from dark belly to warm breast.