WHEN I GROW UP…
Will I still be me?
I want to know
most terribly so.
While rooming in the womb,
on the stage behind the curtains,
overhearing intimations
of change. Whose screams?
I arrived, a piece of ignited clay
presenting with my backside,
bringing pain on opening day.
So interesting to be born into something to be molded… Yes pain, but also curiosity, and I wonder how much we mood ourselves and how much we are shaped by others.
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Thanks. Got a chuckle out of “bringing pain on opening day” and “presenting with my backside.”
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Glad you enjoyed. Thanks, Sue!
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Enjoyed it too Nan. I always like your ‘literal’ take on the process of birthing poetry.
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I do so appreciate it, Brian!
Nan
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I love the last five lines.
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Thanks. I looked in the Media Library for inspiration and landed on a 6 mo old photo of me.
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Loved this approach to the day of our birth! It’s a good job we can’t remember it 🙂
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But they say some of us can! I know my mother can!
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Wow! I had no idea!
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Some people really can, but I meant my mother can remember my OWN breech birth!
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Ouch…
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Love the identity questions from within the womb!
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Thank you. It felt pretty natural!
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