You can walk now

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.

© Doina Cornell 2024

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