YOU CAN WALK NOW
A year ago not yet born
Silent, kicking,
stretching out my stomach
Stretching out time until I
could not move or think
except when I hauled myself up Cam Peak
straight up, me, and you inside,
unknown, closer to me and more known
than you’ll ever be,
a great big foot sticking
in my ribs
and a great big head bouncing
on my bum.
Then born. Blonde!
Blue-eyed! My changeling baby
who would not go to the breast
crying with hunger
like his sister once did,
and not drinking
we fought and fought for ten days
and got it right
YOU ARE STILL DRINKING
MY MILK NOW A YEAR ON
You strut around straight-legged
grinning a six-tooth grin
hiding toys on the bookshelves, in
the washing machine,
saying ‘woo woo’ for dogs
and ‘aaah’ for a lion’s roar.
A solid little earth-mover.
Feet firm on the ground.
Mouth open for tidbits
from mother’s, sister’s plate.
Mummy’s boy.
Comedian.
Hooligan.
Nera’s Baby.
Can’t imagine the world now
without you in it.
Laughing. Eating. Appetite for all that.
Appetite for being outside, for greeting
people,
animals in the fields,
birds and planes in the blue sky.
For trying the taste of stones, earth, plants,
Your heavy tread like your father’s
On the ground. Your heavy head
banged so many times.
Earth boy, giggling boy,
the best boy of my life.
19-21 Feb 2003
Poem for Dan.