not a pretty picture. not a good. not a bad. picture. but an argument.

Friday, August 23, 2013

the bloodcord snaps

"Poem For A Daughter" (and for a Son) by Anne Stevenson

"I think I'm going to have it,"
I said, joking between pains.
The midwife rolled competent
sleeves over corpulent milky arms.
"Dear, you never have it,
we deliver it."
A judgement years proved true.
Certainly I've never had you

as you still have me, Caroline.
Why does a mother need a daughter?
Heart's needle, hostage to fortune,
freedom's end. Yet nothing's more perfect
than that bleating, razor-shaped cry
that delivers a mother to her baby.
The bloodcord snaps that held
their sphere together. The child,
tiny and alone, creates the mother.

A woman's life is her own
until it is taken away
by a first, particular cry.
Then she is not alone
but a part of the premises
of everything there is:
a time, a tribe, a war.
When we belong to the world
we become what we are.


  1. So glad you shared this! Love how you capture your children in these photos. And how you were captured !

  2. Wise & true. Gorgeous babies, Erin... xo

  3. These faces. Eyes. Mouths. Noses. Looks. The air between them and you. These stories, Erin, how incredible.

    Starting with them "being delivered."

    How true that this is how it is becoming a mother, now part of the world. Multiply it times 10 when becoming a grandmother. I think I told you that two more are on the way. :)

  4. these are my babies. we continue to make one another))

    grandbabies - i can't imagine but i dare to and want to one day be so broken and healed.



"Words at the limit of hearing, attributable to no one, received in the conch of the ear like dew by a leaf." (philippe jaccottet) or even a quiet presence is appreciated))