First Fig

My little sister is a big fan of Def Jam Poetry. Earlier this week she posted a poem on her blogthat literally took my breath away. It was as if the poet had looked into my mind and translated onto the page everything I think, feel, fear about being a mother.

I'm not sure I've ever felt so vulnerable as I did when I read this poem and saw every aspect of myself there. And yet, I saw the beauty and complexity in what I'm endeavoring, in how I'm going about mothering. And I had hope for the first time in a long time that I will not destroy my children in this process. I saw that my questions and silence, ambivalence and depression, fears and devotion are what make me a mother.

And so on this Mother's Day I share with you, myself.

Apology to My Unborn

i fear that you will never sleep

that like these fingers long and too thin

to hold rings and commitments

you will inherit your mother’s insomnia

her restless spirit

child, i wish I could quiet all your questions

tell you the exact number of stars

show you where the moon goes at sunrise

i wish i could temper your fear of good byes

prove that the earth spins regardless of whether or not you are awake to see it

i wish i could give you one morning worth rising for

I pray that you can close your eyes

see the world through the only thing i have fit to pass down to you

this heart of a dreamer

but i want you stronger sooner

want you kind and brave

want you unafraid to fight

for what you believe and need

want you beautiful and free

i want you nothing like your mother

this girl trembling before each new day

frightened of herself love

this girl who finds the word ‘woman’ a cloak too heavy to don

most days

you deserve someone who carries the moniker like banner

wears it easy like sun in summer

but, child, what can i tell you of peace

when you were probably conceived in a cacophony of questions

still i think of you as possible

can almost smell the breath of god light against you skin

can hear you, softness, eyes closed laughing

real as the beating staccato against my chest

but future, i fear if i

cling too fiercely to your unconditional

that i will bruise you

because i can not hold my breath long enough to shrug off these imperfections

i wonder, if they will make me too nervous to nurse you

leave me unable to find a place where just loving you is enough

child I will begin counting those same stars

and in dreams these arms will hold you

whisper you soft into a still slumber

these hands, small and strong, like your grandmother

will build for you a world of colored things

will pray, palms towards the heaven, for a quiet

without the tumble and chaos of

words and worry

child i pray that you know

that though feared, you are wanted

know how you’ve lived lifetimes in this hollow expansion of breath

know how easy you’ll fit

in my spaces

need you to know this now before time and distances help me

to forget to tell you often enough

i hope that we will not be too much like shadow and brick

voices thrown against walls

these hands are tired of building

and child i hope you will forgive my quiet

those moments when i just can’t find the words to speak

i hope my silences don’t scare you

won’t have you questioning your worth

have you turning towards friends and strangers for comfort

i want you to like me

to know me

to know that there are moments when i will wrestle with moments

that shade my best intentions

moments like now

your mother

lays awake

watching, yet, another morning from the wrong side

practicing slow this breathing that will usher you one day into this world

here, i can, almost conjure up a proper image of you

i still fear that you will never know peace

but i already know i need your laughter

need the gentle curve of your fingers

need your eyes locked on mine

need you here now for balance

but my future,

i will deny you your right to exist

before i pass on this

cracked soul of a storyteller

you deserve more than

this threat of me as your mother

still attempting my own world of colored things

so child, just promise me that you will be, eventually

i need your possibility

like i need a night worth sleeping for

-Bassey Ikpi

(You can see a video of the author performing her poem here.)