Two Years Old

Two Years Old

You're two years-old
Two years-new, growing wise
Still wild, occasionally tamed
Handsome
Sweet
Pulling hair with glee
Helping me sweep
Whirling CD disks like planets
"Different Song, Please," You say,
Forming words from the air
Epiphany! Miracle!
You're becoming you
Before my eyes
You're two years-old
Two years-new and growing wise

~For Gabriel on his 2nd Birthday
Love,
Mom

Avriana Moonshine

Your moonlit eyes dance under the stars
Understanding Truth
Lighting the evening sky
The first light of morning
Brilliant lights undimmed
Undaunted by pitch night
Mercy and determination
Smiling crescents when your spirit laughs
No fooling you
Your stories urgent
Invigorating
Avriana Kind and Wise
You know so much more than I

Why do people cry?

Do we cry because we're sad
Or because we feel safe and comforted, sufficient to allow rain to wash over us unclothed by stiff upper lips
Crying
Is it a sign of something wrong
Or that yes, we'll be okay
It is the absence of tears that signals impending deadness
Presence of tears, inviting, watering, signaling Life is occurring
Yes grief
relief
joy
Yes anger
devastation
sadness
Yes song
river flowing abundant
fertile soil
wet moist
Tears
Growing into a tomorrow
Yes Life

Say, cry
feelings brushed aside weeks on end
saying hi, each flowing by
swirling aches, dreams, loss
screams
tears cleansing infected seams
Alive and here
all my tears
Crying, singing, even those waiting to cry
heart singing thank you
glad to be alive
crying soil to flower
Crying
Garden of
Life

Evening In Summer

Evening wraps itself around me. I can hear myself breathe. Trees sway quietly, night insects and moisture fill the air, an ensemble like a peace blanket of wind and being.

I am on our deck, a periwinkle blanket spread beneath me, a plate of something Indian beside me.

Avriana is between my legs, which are outstretched like a starfish relaxing in the quietude of suburbs at night. My daughter has eyes like the moon, which blink as she stares at the woodwork of our deck, as though it is a novelty, fully enrapturing, yet probably not separate from her at all. Like her thumb. Her pinkie. Her mother, and well everything. She is so at home in the world, at one with everything she absorbs with curiosity and open intent. Unset goals, certain to be attained, the future confidently resting in the present. I nibble her belly and she laughs and her eyes rediscover the panels of rough reddish wood holding us above the world. Is she benignly patronizing me? She knows more than I do, I am sure.

I finish my masala burger and push the screen on its track, careful to push the right angles, so as not to get the thing off track. I whoosh Avriana inside and check email.

Five Days After Birth

Five days after birth
No one is inside me
Only my guts wriggle, trying to find their way to normalcy
Normalcy

A New Life; A New kind of Normal
Changing bed arrangements
Stretching a couple's love deeper toward agape
Three kids; yes, there are three of them
Gabriel Nuzzles Avriana and tenderly chants "Baby" over and over
Then pulls forcefully on her tiny tuft of darkish hair
She frowns and goes back to sleep

Nika wonders, "Will Avriana like me?"
And remarks enthusiastically, "Avriana's butt crack is showing!"

Avriana pants for my breast and suckles perfectly until gas strikes
Gas is the worst

Burping, like occasional crying is a relief

Sleeping happens or doesn't at odd times
I lie awake while Avriana sleeps, wondering how I'll take care of my whole family
How I'll take care of me too

Avriana is awake for a little while and I smile exhausted and delighted into her marvelous eyes, singing her the song I made when she was making in me

I start working on albums, balancing time with the other two wonderful children

And I eat chocolate.

The Big Wait Poem

Waiting.

Waiting rooms in doctor's offices and clinicians hours behind schedule.
Waiting at a red light when you're running late.
Waiting to grow up.
Waiting to get a raise.
Waiting to lose weight
Waiting to prove something
Waiting to be happy


Waiting for Jesus to come back
Waiting for Christmas
Waiting til the kids are in older
Til there's more time
More money
Less stress

Waiting til it's all over
Waiting to buy a house
Waiting to move away
Waiting to find someone
Waiting to be who you are

Waiting to get pregnant
Waiting to give birth
Waiting past when they said
Waiting

Wanting
it to be somewhen else
something else
away from now
here
this
gift

Gift
Open
Here
Pull the tab and breathe your life
It is this
Now
Gift

Pain Pleasure Fear Love Rage Unknowing
Quiet Peace in All
Right now
Acceptance
Embrace

It is your life
Your gift
Your now

Birth Preparation: A Poem

Anticipation

The Birth Kit's arrived
We've collected most items we'll need for her arrival
I've spent hundreds of dollars on picture frames and rearranged my decorations in a flurry of nesting
I've even dusted my dresser
Tomorrow her crib arrives
And Nika reads the birth book, ooing and awwing over the picture where the baby's head is peeking out of the naked Mama
Gabriel plays peekaboo with my belly
And David puts together a bookshelf for me, high enough to keep postpartum snacks out of toddler's reach
I've gone to prenatal yoga and therapy
Said my prayers
Opened a little more to
Space
Time
God

I brought some childhood pictures down from the attic and let them join my family
I practice breathing
Occasionally I remember to do kegals
And now I wait
Anticipation enjoyable, mostly
Eager to meet her, hold her close and whisper I love you
Dreading the soreness and fatigue, the days and needs blending
Enchanted, in-love, longing to know her;
A friendship that will cost me, transform me, draw me closer to God
To myself

My children my gift, my price, my spiritual fire
Burning away what's false or not useful
Purifying my heart
Lighting my life
Giving light to my spirit

I surrender my expectations, at least in theory
And loving her, I wait for her to come
Shatter everything
Til the Great Letting Go
Anticipating
Love
Participating Love
I give
I am
She is
God IS
Love

I wait
In
Anticipation

Pregnancy and the gestation of Self

Pregnant with my child, I am pregnant with myself, past and present
Giving birth to my child, I birth a new reason to become what I am, only better, more complete
Raising my child I am challenged to acknowledge that my child is teacher, even though our roles as parent and child shall not be confused
Honoring my selves and becoming a Self dancing with God, I learn to honor my children
Daily I fall Daily I grow Daily I follow the One who brings wholeness and inspires holiness
Learning to love more completely, I touch Her Sacred Womb
My child will be born; I will hold her and gaze into her wondrous eyes
Embracing her with all that I am, together with all that am not
I will make a promise that I can only keep in part
And my child and I will continue gestating together our whole lives, birthing and rebirthing, dying and being reborn in the dance of our life together, held together in the life of God.
I was knit together in my Mother's womb, and I did not know the knitter
Now I comprehend that the knitter is Mother and I know Her, for She creates me anew