I wrote this poem about
haikujaguar's Jokka. The
anadi believe that whispering their memories into a perfect seashell will preserve them, and that image stuck in my mind. I call the form a "nautilus verse," because each couplet has one more syllable than the previous couplet. It grows on itself like the chambers of a spiral shell.
Birthwell Lullaby
Free
Me
Of this
Cruel kiss:
Fading dreams,
Drying streams;
In labor’s stress,
Forgetfulness.
Take what I recall
Joys and griefs and all.
My ocean in a shell,
I know your voice so well:
Just an echo in my ear,
To my touch you are not here.
Pour out a wealth of memories
Kept safe and sound … return them, please,
When my womb is empty and I find
Room again for thought and peace of mind.
Then back you go to your own hidden drawer
Until, unless, I need your aid once more.
Do I ask so much, to know my children’s names,
Not to lose them like thin branches in the flames?
You who have been my only hope, my truest friend …
I pray you help me hold my wits to my life’s end.
Tags: art, fantasy, poem
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