Writer’s Memo: I am currently taking a wonderful class called the Colorado Writing Project. As part of this, I have been playing with words a lot. Poetry is one of my favorite forms to write. This poem captures a new mom (me) just a week or so home from the hospital with her new baby (Harper) and the fear I felt as my mom and dad (Grandma and Grandpa) drove away after their first visit here. Thank goodness for Jason’s calming reassurance; this poem may, in fact, be the perfect way to kick off Father’s Day weekend.
“Front Porch”
Asleep now,
nestled into the crook
of my left arm
pink face beneath a tuft of dark hair
which was so surprising,
not red?
Warm day in June,
smoke from the wildfires cleared out,
blue skies
green grass
the same,
so different.
Look up,
the car is backing up in the driveway
my pulse quickens,
I try to control it
I know what’s coming, and
it burns behind my eyes.
Where are you going, mom?
I can’t do this.
I am not a mother, I am your child,
in your care,
and you know the things,
not me.
This child in my arms,
she will cry,
be sick,
need me
Will I be enough,
will she choose me too?
Jason wraps an arm around us,
and he says,
We’ve got this.
I want to believe,
but all I see are tail lights.
Jason says,
Sit here on the rocking chair,
with our beautiful daughter,
and rest a bit while she sleeps
And then
we will feed her.
And then
we will bathe her.
And then
we will sing to her.
And then
we will rock her.
And then
it will be a hundred tomorrows with her.
On this porch,
Me,
A mother.
