why the storm doesn’t scare
My children sleep with their legs tucked like frogs
and their mouths pulled into suck-shape,
as if the womb and the breast
weren’t imagined galaxies ago,
as if there were good memories
from the pink skin-lights,
the daddy booms, the spicy
thai peppers and the rumbles thereafter.
They yield to blanket silk,
curl tight within, and dream,
drift at sea and storms don’t wake.
Far away, above and below,
inside the cup of the most inside ear,
I am singing.
- June 12, 2009
- 8 Comments
- 0
- Poetry
deb
June 12, 2009thanks for this... you gift
Adventures In Babywearing
June 12, 2009sigh.
Adventures In Babywearing’s last blog post..The Babywearing Stash
janna
June 12, 2009What nice thoughts. Could I come rest in your brain for awhile?
Jo@Mylestones
June 13, 2009Beautiful...
Jo@Mylestones’s last blog post..Stories in my Pocket: The Halting of Spring
Sarah Bessey
June 13, 2009This is beautiful, just beautiful. I hope you don't mind but i posted it on my blog (with credit to you, of course!) because I found it so moving. I'm a reader that came over with the Mother Letter Project but have stayed because of how much I enjoy your writing. I may not comment often but thanks for writing!
Tamara
June 13, 2009Your words almost always put some kind of lump in my throat. So glad to have you 'back', here and there. You have a great gift, and a lovely spirit.
Ann Voskamp
June 16, 2009write... yes, write.
my.
Ann Voskamp’s last blog post..Why We Hold Memories...
Kelly
June 17, 2009you help me remember the poet inside me... beautifully written...
Kelly’s last blog post..A Sweet Surprise