A Cap, Dressed In Pink, Holding Me In Her Lap”
It is said that a child’s body and mind
Are impressed in the womb and at birth
But even at conception it may begin,
Preparing the child for their journey
On earth –
Father is holding her with his arms,
She is sobbing in pain, the white
Clad doctor in alarm, rushes through
The hospital door, water is running
Down mother’s legs
I begin seeping out, when suddenly
I stop, they quickly pull over a bed,
In anguish she lies, a resistant
Birth, in suffering mother cries
With metal pincers they squeeze my
Head, with scissors cutting the
Umbilical cord, I have arrived!
I am set aside, as they mop up
Afterbirth and water, nurses running
To beds of screaming mothers
A darkness follows me, from an
Infant it encloses me
My eyes are squeezed in blackness
I am accompanied by sadness
Bringing me home my tapered head
Is covered with a cap, dressed in pink
She holds me in her lap as I sink into
A sleep
Waking to the sound of people having
Drinks, friends and family come to see
Me…
The day comes when I open my
Eyes, looking around at strange objects
My mind trying to grasp the colors, smells
And words of curse with adverse sounds
The very first words I hear
Even as I begin to creep there is something
That is wrong, weeping in my sleep, waking
To solemn thoughts, not knowing what
They are about…
The whisperers, the shadows from the womb
Have followed my birth…
With one fist in my mouth, trying not to cry
Clutching my doll, tears fall on my cheeks
She comes in my room and speaks
I awake with a jerk, crawling out of bed
Two years old, a group
Of men are acting strange and laughing
One comes and picks me up, throwing
Me in the air like a ball,
One time they miss, dropping me to the
Floor, people gaze, father rushes
Over holding me in his arms, in alarm
They take me home…
Oh, the strange pictures on the wall
Animals stare and terrify me, dogs
With cigarettes hanging from their
Mouth, sitting at a crap table playing
Poker with cards and chips*
I am in these people’s grip, I am being
Wagered, I am being put to the test
The stage has been set, could this be
The start of an oncoming illness
Of a child’s journey through darkness?
*’Bold Bluff’ popular pictures in their
Day, of dogs playing poker, hung on
Our walls
Excerpts from the book
‘A Child’s Journey Through Darkness’
To be continued with
‘And The Child Grew Up’
Donna's Poetry Blog 