It’s Sunday –
a snow-dreamy morning…
The mad, embroidered Moon hangs
on the cloth of the sky.
Amidst a barren land I see
a speak-burning tree.
I am so dispirited.
By the roadside chapel, a small boy listens
to the deaf-mute woman…
through touch.
I haven't been late for a long time,
Back when I was 27 or so,
It's always been on time.
I'm 49 now and it's been three weeks, nothing.
Has my time of being on time come to an end?
It's likely an age thing.
I still get it at 49, maybe not as much but I get it.
What if it's not my age?
I ordered something, it arrives tomorrow.
At least something will arrive, on my doorstep.
It says first relief is best at wake up,
I think, change my life, no more killing it, be quaint, stay like that,
Like a new day, a good start, with first relief.
To be sure.
After the damage, it was quaint, it'll never happen they said,
One in four is how quaint life is.
It could be my clock has broken.
What will become of me?
Back to killing it, til the last moment?
Life would be quaint,
LIfe would be timeless,
Like the start of a new moment, a new day, a new face to meet.
Life.
Body.
Age.
Breed.
Flowers beneath my feet
Happy clouds above my head
Barefoot and pregnant me
By emerald emotions I’m lead
Walking into motherhood
Like a deer caught in headlights
Feeling optimistic and good
Despite first time jitters fright
Will I be enough as babe blooms
Can I do motherhood right
Baby in my blessed womb
I’m excited to give you life
I worry about the world here
That it may not be so safe
But God doesn’t give me fear
Whenever I kneel and pray
I feel your lovely little limbs
As you swim in my tummy
Looking forward to your whims
And making faces so funny
Growing you I grow with you
In spirit in every delightful way
I love you as big as the sky blue
Excited to hold you one day
As I walk in the grass so green
I look forward to your arrival
I will give you love in entirety
You are my heart legacy tribal
to be a mother
God teaches me control
leaving earth to revolve
Anticipation as I take the test
Will I be pregnant again
Two lines appear
But what I feel
Isn't the best.
Dread and fear
Loom over me
How could this be
My face full of tears
I don't feel happy
I feel sad
And now I feel
So very bad.
Guilt rising up
This isn't fair
To the child
That is there.
How can I feel this way?
Will these feelings stay?
The first scan comes
It came really fast
But will this be my last?
My baby is healthy
But I feel the same
Will my feelings ever change?
As things progress I feel so strange
My baby is moving and dancing.
It's insane!
But my feelings remain the same.
Within her frame, a world is formed,
A heartbeat echoes, soft and warm.
Yet hope is stitched with threads of pain,
A sacred journey, not in vain.
She walks with feet too weary, sore,
Each step a trial, yet she bears more.
Restless nights with fleeting dreams,
Her body stretched at fragile seams.
A sudden craving grips her soul,
For sour fruits, or bitter bowl.
Strange hungers rise without a call,
She longs, she yearns, she wants it all.
Her back bends low, her breath runs thin,
The tide of labor swells within.
She grips the night, she bites the day,
As life prepares to carve its way.
And when the pain breaks like the sea,
Hope crowns her womb with victory.
Her cries give birth to sweetest song,
A mother’s strength, eternal, strong.
May we be blessed to give our children three things
as we help them to discover and develop their wings:
The confidence to always know their worth
The strength to chase their dreams…no matter how far
and the ability to understand…
how deeply loved they are.
I stand alone, my hands held tight,
To a secret blooming in the quiet night.
Two weeks, just two, and yet it’s clear,
A tiny life, a spark of fear.
I whisper softly to my growing heart,
A little dot that’s just the start.
A tiny soul. I cannot see,
But I feel the weight of what could be.
The world outside feels cold and far,
With shadows extending beneath the stars.
The father’s words, a storm, a cry,
“Not now,” he says, “no not this time.”
My heart beats steady, despite my intense fear,
I dream of a love that’s yet to keep.
Little Dot, with hopes so small,
I wonder if I can bear it all.
In silence I know, I will learn to choose,
A path so alone, even though I may lose.
But for now, I hold my hands tight,
A little dot, my guiding light.
The father’s anger may burn and fade,
But this child within will not be swayed.
A future unknown, a love unspoken,
For Little Dot, my heart is open.
Love is
so much stronger
than hate…
Hate aborts
all that is
good…
Love is
a pregnancy
that always gives
birth:-
Hate pontificates
that which
is called fear
but strengthening
love silences
weakening fear…
In the healing
atmosphere
of life
hate evaporates
but love
absorbs
healing sunshine
and serenely flows
with her frothing waves
splashing upon
the shores of life…
The moonlight
of love
will always
drown
the darkness
of hate
for where love
abides
hate can never
be:-
To my baby,
If only words could convey
the ebb and flows I face each day.
Weak in strength, as emotions overflow,
Even through the struggle,
It’s a joy to watch you grow.
For you, my dear, I would bear twice the strife,
If it would spare you some trouble in this fickle life.
I want to be a safe place for you to rest,
Where you can always feel loved, happy, and blessed.
But if you can sense my moments of sadness
or physical pains,
I pray you can also feel the love that sustains.
I won’t be perfect, though I'll always try,
And even if every day I cry,
Know there is courage behind my tears,
Faith that surpasses all my fears.
The Lord is with us, our constant guide.
In Him, our trust and hope abide.
Please don’t hold on to my sorrow or temper.
Let it be resilience and grace you remember.
Take the best of me, and make it your own,
I pray above all else, my love for you is always felt and known.
With a bang
that rivals the creation
of the universe
cells start growing,
multiplying
forming
molding, shaping
changing
and becoming…
a soul
a purpose
a life
an understanding
living
surviving
thriving
hearing,
heart pumping,
feet and hands moving…
Two months down and seven to go
too late for second guessing
My hypothalamus is haunting me.
An empty crib.
A bump that will never grow.
Love authenticity, you will always be a part of me.
A ghost in the hallways.
Your heart beat in my deepest quetiapine dreams.
A scan that will never show your sweetest echo.
Father, why would you make me bleed the love so pure?
I lost my voice from speaking you into existence.
He runs his fingers over my stomach my breath hitching, hoping yours is too.
My hypothalamus is haunting me.
A woman's pregnancy -Gods miracle
Way back in my day, moms-to-be
Wore tents which made bumps hard to see
To hide them seemed good
Discreet understood
Now snug tops let large bumps hang free!
This Thing of Joy
(Pregnancy Journey: Month 1)
This thing of joy is sweet news,
but my lips have nausea spelled
on them
Sweet news yet I am unable
to work much or walk for long
Yet the colours of life remain in
my perk
Purple headbands to match
my blooming face
And a pink shawl to keep me warm
in this place
My Habibi, a sweet gift did bring
a golden locket, to wear and sing
Of the love we share, and the life we'll bring
into this world, our hearts will ring
Though I am exhausted and feeling low
I know this journey will be worth the woe
For soon I'll hold my little one
and all the pain will be undone
I'll rest and take it slow
and test the colours of life
Let it stay on, flowing through me,
and into my precious seed
Bringing with it, joy, love,
and all that we need.
.
.
.
.
.
Sept. 2021
©Odion Izegwire-Edu
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