Tuesday, October 19, 2010

first hour.

that hour, I was most myself. I had shrugged
my mother slowly off, I lay there
taking my first breaths, as if
the air of the room was blowing me
like a bubble. All I had to do
was go out along the line of my gaze and back,
out and back, on gravity's silk, the
pressure of the air a caress, smelling on my
self her creamy blood. The air
was softly touching my skin and tongue,
entering me and drawing forth the little
sighs I did not know as mine.
I was not afraid. I lay in the quiet
and looked, and did the wordless thought,
my mind was getting it's oxygen
direct, the rich mix by mouth.
I hated no one. I gazed and gazed,
and everything was interesting, I was
free, not yet in love, I did not
belong to anyone, I had drunk
no milk, yet -no one had
my heart. I was not very human. I did not
know there was anyone else. I lay
like a god, for an hour, then they came for me,
and took me to my mother.

Sharon Olds (from 'The Unswept Room')

to stop, read something amazing & let it sit somewhere inside can be the best gift. i love this poem and this is how it feels, sometimes, when you are birthing a new part of you... see you in the kitchenxxx

1 comment:

  1. Sharon Olds is my FAVORITE !! poet. love her, love this poem. thanks for the moment.

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