awed by new life

Just got back from the hospital, visiting dear friends M&N and their new baby Henry--being there made me realize that it has been nearly 5 years since last I was in a baby ward, holding my sister A1's baby (my monster nephew A). I walked into the room to see my dearest friends smiling warmly, holding their new baby--a spot of life and light. I held him; noted tiny feet, small curled fists; shushed his tender cry. I melted. Such is the magic of a new baby.

I do have other things to say, but until I can, I hope these poems I've been posting have been enough.

Sylvia Plath's reflection on her daughter's birth; the wonder and awe of having a baby. I dedicate this to M & N and Henry
"Morning Song" 
Love set you going like a fat gold watch.
The midwife slapped your footsoles, and your bald cry
Took its place among the elements.

Our voices echo, magnifying your arrival.  New statue.
In a drafty museum, your nakedness
Shadows our safety.  We stand round blankly as walls.

I'm no more your mother
Than the cloud that distills a mirror to reflect its own slow
Effacement at the wind's hand.

All night your moth-breath
Flickers among the flat pink roses.  I wake to listen:
A far sea moves in my ear.

One cry, and I stumble from bed, cow-heavy and floral
In my Victorian nightgown.
Your mouth opens clean as a cat's.  The window square

Whitens and swallows its dull stars.  And now you try
Your handful of notes;
The clear vowels rise like balloons.
 --Sylvia Plath 


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