Holding hands
Im not sure I will ever find the right words to do this moment justice.
I put a moment out of reach,
too young to explain the details
embroidered on its
white cotton sleeve.
Those damn camcorder tapes,
noisily focusing on
early modern medicine.
I trusted it to the mother
she carried it behind closed eyes,
curved reflections pushing
shapes from inside balloons.
Pop
and the light that enters opened eyes
scatters into saucers,
settling like fish returning
to the deepest parts of the pool.
We lay there quietly with the battle tent
raging above us.
I gripped translucent fingernails
so small, so imperfectly real.
Inhaled your sweet and perfect pale
that deepened scent of skin revealed.
My breath spread incantations
that promised you our touch.
The kiss I forged on your forehead
would only let in dreams, tell stories
of the worlds we’d weave and all
the songs they’ll come to sing.
Oh you do it justice, Keith, believe me… Great poetry doesn’t report a moment, it relives it. Exactly as it does here, mate.. Bravo.
Cheers,
Jim
Wow Jim thank you for the nom it really means a lot to me. And thank you for the kind words, this is a poem I felt unworthy to write from my perspective, childbirth was so traumatic for my wife I felt a fake holding on to him for the first time with the doctors working the magic around us, precious moments none the less. Cheers keith
This captures beautifully for me that precious moment when I held my two children for the first time. The hospital was old-fashioned and didn’t allow fathers to be present at the birth so we had the second one at home.. Congrats on the nom, Keith.
Well done,
Gerald
It is a feeling that fathers never forget whether they are present at the birth or not. I wasn’t when my first was born but allowed in when the second came into this world. On this occasion the midwife warned me that if I fainted they would leave me lying on the floor as they would be too busy with the mother. I stayed upright, I am glad to say. Your poem brought back the happy memory of feeling their tiny fingers gripping mine.
Thanks for that, Keith.
Perfectly descript and poignant at the risk of sounding redundant but not entirely. The birth of your own flesh mingled with that of your love can do nothing but bring about new hopes, fears and resolve.
Well done!