Tuesday, February 8, 2011

Hidden One

Concealed within the depths of me
Not as hidden as she once was

Kicking, turning, pressing my swollenness
Impatient and hungry

Un-opposingly existent
Visually, emotionally distorted, I am

Aching head, back, heart
Slipping through the fingers of my mind

The blanket of skin I wrapped her in

Love hidden, whispered lullabies
Stretching and tugging at sinewy soul-tethers

Pressing my hips to walk a little stronger
Grow a little older, to exchange wisdom for impulsiveness

She is coming, strong and stubborn
Testing life beyond the boundaries

Worth beyond the birthing pains,
Broken, tattered, hopeful

Drawing strength from that which I relinquished
Gladly would again, my adolescence

Child of my youth,
Daughter of my choice
Walk strong among these days
For you were born to dream


  1. Love this - such rich imagery

  2. this is lovely and i am sure inspiring to the one you wrote it for...a duaghter? yourself? there is life still to be gained...

  3. Inspired work and great weaving of feeling with imagery. The process of birthing so important in a woman's life metaphorically is the story of bringing forth something new that wasn't there before whatever it may be. Brilliant work. Gay @beachanny

  4. Love the imagery - the woman / the child
    the child the woman

    excellent for One Shot

    moonie hugs

  5. Thank you for your kind words. I appreciate that you took the time to read and also comment on this piece. I respect each poet represented here, your impressive work is something to aspire to.

    Hugs ~Apryl

  6. Wonderful imagery. I really like the last line; such hope.

  7. Dear Apryl

    Its lovely and I enjoyed the vivid imagery... thanks for sharing...

    ॐ नमः शिवाय
    Om Namah Shivaya

  8. DIVINE!!! The thought, the words...everything about this poem was just lovely!!!
    from child to woman to child - the process is amazing, isn't it?!! Expressed very beautifully here too...

  9. Randall, Shashi and Kavisionz. Your comments made my day. I am thankful. :)

  10. Perceptive, extraordinary the
    selves within our selves we
    have to wrestle with.