Lights out
... the firefly
inside
...Peggy Willis Lyles
There is so much to write
and so much to express; it is all a bit overwhelming. It successfully keeps me
away from penning it down. I think of what to write and how to frame the words
when the dogs howl and sleep is nowhere near. I convince myself that I am not
being lazy, just confused. I end up not knowing the truth. I try to formulate that
entire buzz into coherent thoughts while cooking – I only end up burning the
onions. But, like always, a stray dream came to my rescue. Today morning, I
dreamt of fully-formed lines of bad poetry; lines happy to embrace all my
zig-zag-ness. So here it is. Bad poetry is really always more than what good
prose can ever hope to be :P
You are pregnant, the
mind, the body (and the doctor) says
She is ‘carrying’ is what
my father says
We are expecting a baby is
what the husband says
We will be grandparents is
what my mother says
You have a bun in the oven
is what my friend says
You are preggie is what
the Yankee website says
This is to tell you what
nobody says
sometimes it feels like
the world itself is within
other times, it is just
another hollow ball of fear
sometimes, I fall in love
with myself anew
other times, I get anxious
about all my greys
sometimes, I walk around
carefully, afraid to trip
other times, I am even
more klutzy than ever
sometimes, I admire my
slowly rounding belly
other times, I shrink back
from the mirror
sometimes my back screams
in protest
other times, it groans
just for attention
(which it gets from a
doting husband
what’s the harm in adding)
sometimes, I feel like I
can climb a mountain, waddle and all
other times, I cannot even
wiggle a toe
sometimes, I cackle at the
oddest things
other times, I bawl even
louder than soap heroines
sometimes every song holds
a special meaning
other times, even music is
alien
sometimes I feel like
making love all night
other times, I want to
simply curl over
sometimes, I want the
whole world to know
other times, I want to hug
this little secret
sometimes I feel I can
forgive the whole world
and welcome it with a
crushing hug
other times, I want to be
left alone
just alone, just alone
sometimes, the wait feels
magical
other times, I want the
baby to be here now.
sometimes I wish fervently
it is a boy
other times, I dream of colourful
hair ribbons
sometimes, I look into his
eyes and want all of him repeated
other times, I want the
baby to be all like me, just like me.
sometimes I feel I will be
the best mamma ever
other times, the very
thought makes my hand clammy
sometimes, it all feels
too momentous to contain
other times, I want to
pretend it’s just another year
sometimes it feels like
the beginning of a story
other times, it feels like
the end of a long chapter.
sometimes I get lost in
these whorls
of sometimes and other
times
that’s when from under the
lining of my skin,
there comes a little tap
a feather-light drumming
of life
a butterfly eager to
flutter
then I know, all over
again.
I crave all the sometimes
and
even love all the other times
I simply don’t want to be
anyplace else.
As always, a song for the occasion and one for the road.
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