"Edited to Add"....

This started as a pregnancy blog when I fell pregnant in May 2009 after four years of finding a donor, doing all the counselling / paperwork / tests and trying.

And now, thanks to a 4WD which skidded onto our side of the road, killing our baby daughter at 34w and injuring me, my partner and two of my stepdaughters on 27 December 2009, it has turned into something else. We didn't want this something else, but apparently it is all we've got to go on with.

Thursday, July 15, 2010

Poem-hunting

here's what I've caught and dragged home this time.

This from Catherine, a poem from her daughter Olivia's memorial service:

The End

It is time for me to go, mother; I am going.
When in the paling darkness of the lonely dawn
you stretch out your arms for your baby in the bed,
I shall say, “Baby is not there!”–mother, I am going.

I shall become a delicate draught of air and caress you;
and I shall be ripples in the water when you bathe,
and kiss you and kiss you again.

In the gusty night when the rain patters on the leaves
you will hear my whisper in your bed,
and my laughter will flash with the lightning
through the open window into your room.

If you lie awake, thinking of your baby till late into the night,
I shall sing to you from the stars, “Sleep mother, sleep.”

On the straying moonbeams I shall steal over your bed,
and lie upon your bosom while you sleep.

I shall become a dream,
and through the little opening of your eyelids
I shall slip into the depths of your sleep;
and when you wake up and look round startled,
like a twinkling firefly I shall flit out into the darkness.

When, on the great festival of puja,
the neighbours’ children come and play about the house,
I shall melt into the music of the flute and throb in your heart all day.

Dear auntie will come with puja-presents and will ask,
“Where is our baby, sister?”
Mother, you will tell her softly,
“He is in the pupils of my eyes, he is in my body and in my soul.”

~ Rabindranath Tagore

And then this, from Zan:

To Impatience

Don't wish your life away
my mother said and I saw
past her words that same day
suddenly not there
nor the days after
even the ones I remember

and though hands held back the hounds
on the way to the hunt
now the fleet deer are gone
that bounded before them
all too soon overtaken
as she knew they would be

and well as she warned me
always calling me home
to the moment around me
that was taking its good time
and willingly though I
heeded her words to me
once again waking me
to the breath that was there

you too kept whispering
up close to my ear
the secrets of hunger
for some prize not yet there
sight of face touch of skin
light in another valley
labor triumphant or
last word of a story
without which you insisted
the world would not be complete
soon soon you repeated
it cannot be too soon

yet you know it can
and you know it would be
the end of you too only
if ever it arrives
you find something else missing
and I know I must thank you
for your faithful discontent
and what it has led me to
yes yes you have guided me
but what is hard now to see
is the mortal hurry

– W.S. Merwin, from Present Company, 2005, Copper Canyon Press


I feel odd, asking a little question into the quiet space of this blog, but let me experiment. Which poems do it for you? (and what is it they do?)

7 comments:

  1. All my losses were early and this poem captures the feelings of that perfectly...

    Just For Those Few Weeks
    For those few weeks -
    I had you to myself.
    And that seems too short a time
    to be changed so profoundly.

    In those few weeks -
    I came to know you . . .
    and to love you.
    You came to trust me with your life.
    Oh, what a life I had planned for you.

    Just those few weeks -
    When I lost you,
    I lost a lifetime of hopes,
    plans, dreams, and aspirations . . .
    A slice of my future simply vanished overnight.

    Just those few weeks -
    It wasn't enough time to convince others
    how special and important you were.
    How odd, a truly unique person has recently died
    and no one is mourning the passing.

    Just a mere few weeks -
    And no "normal" person would cry all night
    over a tiny, unfinished baby,
    or get depressed and withdraw day after endless day.
    No one would, so why am I?

    You were just those few weeks my little one
    you darted in and out of my life too quickly.
    But it seems that's all the time you needed
    to make my life so much richer
    and give me a small glimpse of eternity.

    - Susan Erling Martinez

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  2. Thanks Kristin - beautiful. xxxxh

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  3. I'm not so good with poetry; music is my poetry, my release.

    For Wallaby, this was the song:

    It started out as a feeling
    Which then grew into a hope
    Which then turned into a quiet thought
    Which then turned into a quiet word

    And then that word grew louder and louder
    'Til it was a battle cry
    I'll come back
    When you call me
    No need to say goodbye

    Just because everything's changing
    Doesn't mean it's never been this way before
    All you can do is try to know who your friends are
    As you head off to the war

    Pick a star on the dark horizon
    And follow the light
    You'll come back when it's over
    No need to say goodbye

    You'll come back when it's over
    No need to say goodbye

    Now we're back to the beginning
    It's just a feeling and no one knows yet
    But just because they can't feel it too
    Doesn't mean that you have to forget

    Let your memories grow stronger and stronger
    'Til they're before your eyes
    You'll come back
    When they call you
    No need to say goodbye

    You'll come back
    When they call you
    No need to say goodbye

    "The Call" by Regina Spektor



    and for my brother, this one:

    There's no one in town I know
    You gave us some place to go.
    I never said thank you for that.
    I thought I might get one more chance.
    What would you think of me now,
    so lucky, so strong, so proud?
    I never said thank you for that,
    now I'll never have a chance.
    May angels lead you in.
    Hear you me my friends.
    On sleepless roads the sleepless go.
    May angels lead you in.
    So what would you think of me now,
    so lucky, so strong, so proud?
    I never said thank you for that,
    now I'll never have a chance.
    May angels lead you in.
    Hear you me my friends.
    On sleepless roads the sleepless go.
    May angels lead you in.
    May angels lead you in.
    May angels lead you in.
    And if you were with me tonight,
    I'd sing to you just one more time.
    A song for a heart so big,
    god wouldn't let it live.
    May angels lead you in.
    Hear you me my friends.
    On sleepless roads the sleepless go.
    May angels lead you in.
    May angels lead you in.
    Hear you me my friends.
    On sleepless roads the sleepless go.
    May angels lead you in.
    May angels lead you in.

    "Hear You Me" by Jimmy Eat World

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  4. Both beautiful. I don't know if you have come across Jess' website http://afteririsreadsaloud.wordpress.com/
    but she has done some wonderful poetry readings there including The Noble Nature which was read at her daughter's funeral and the Tagore you've included above.

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  6. N - thank you - I just went and listen to both of your (and Wallaby's, and your brother's) songs. Regina Spektor, I love, but hadn't heard The Call before. And Jimmy Eat World I'd never heard of, but that song is just beautiful.

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  7. Catherine W - I just found Jess' blog a few weeks ago - and listened to her read "The Snow" for you and Georgina last week. Just stunning. I'll have to go back now and listen to the Tagore and think about whether I can muster up the guts to ask her to read one for Z. Thank you!

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