51

Posted by Heather B. | March 8, 2007 | 4 Comments

Editor’s Note: Heather Bergevin is Segullah’s Poetry Editor, resident comic, and long-distance hug giver. This poem was written for her mother’s 51st birthday. Lucky Mom, lucky us.

peering at her cradled blue
berry eyes in round muffin face
and suckling mouth—
I have read that she
does not realize yet her
separation, having been so long
part of our twin selves. She,
satiated, naps
gently on her warm pillow,
bow mouth
dream nursing.
I see
her becoming distinct, alone
yearly, this sesquipedalian child then
grown—but it is not so, for when
she discovers herhandsherfeethermouthherwill,
you and I become (unbecome)
gradually indistinct—regressing as well as progressing, as I
perfect my gentle idolatry.
“Fly to Grandma,” you say, as she does;
momentarily we are bound
she/me, you/i, and we
when we part we have traded hands.

Category: Daily Special

Comments

4 Responses to “51”

Emily M.
March 8th, 2007 @ 3:16 pm

Something else I wish I had written. I love the last line. I love the interconnectedness of the generations.
Jennifer B.
March 9th, 2007 @ 1:29 am

I enjoy your thoughts on being distinct and bound to our children and mothers. Plus, I must bow to anyone who can use the word “sesquipedalian” and make it work so beautifully. Nicely done.
Heather B.
March 9th, 2007 @ 10:19 am

Thanks, ya’ll. I’ve always been fascinated by the concept in child development that newborns do not recognize any difference between the mother and themselves- that they are a unit, and they are so interconnected that there is no space between them. We tease about being mommy-psychic… when Evva was born, even my milk would let down two or three minutes _before_ she would start crying from hunger.

This, of course, is what makes us, as mothers, feel insane about the time the baby is six or so months old and begins to realize their own individuality… and therefore will not let their other “half” out of their sight for any reason, even for a potty break. Mine were held a great deal (and yet somehow are turning out fine, lol.), and I used to wonder when they would figure out that they could do things alone.

Then I realized that the powerful relationship I have with my own mother came from that foundation of nurturing, attachment parenting… lots of nursing, holding, caring for one another. It was a gentle epiphany. I think that’s mostly what I was trying to say in this piece, to combine how my daughter had become a part of my soul, as she was a portion once of my body, and how my mother, though our bodies had become separated by time and space, was through her parenting and wisdom passed towards me, becoming more a part of my life and spirit every day.

And thank you for enjoying my oddly used large word… it means some of 21 inches in length, which was how long Evva was at birth, besides describing how there are not words large enough to explain feelings of motherhood!

I feel honored to be blogged. We of the staff continually feel so amazed and honored to be a part of Segullah. It is a graceful and peaceful forum to partake of, and I hope that our bloglits enjoy it as well! More poetry submissions, from all, please- we love reading and enjoying your works!
texasgal
March 9th, 2007 @ 1:26 pm

I enjoyed the poem as well as your additional remarks. We non-poets would probably sum it up saying “the more things change, the more they stay the same.” But that’s not as rich, beautiful and enlightening as your poem. How do you do that? Its a gift I guess.