Aparigraha: A Poem on my Son's 4th Birthday
"Mama, at night when I sleep I dream about you." Paul Krishna, 8/20/14
And now I am lost in that deep summer dream of my baby boy being a newborn.
He cries. And his little face is red and wet.
We sigh. I am in love.
In this burnt September dream he begins to change. He moves.
The wind shifts.
The day dances into night.
He crawls out into the world.
And he is no longer entirely mine.
And suddenly I realize.
He was never even a little bit mine.
A delightful delusion of motherhood.
The falsehood that because we once shared cells it makes us one.
(Not even when our blood was the same, pumped line to line, from this heart.)
It didn't make him mine.
It doesn't make him mine.
He is not mine.
Not then. Not now.
The sun sleeps. The pregnant moon rises.
He crawls. He crawls out into the world.