Little Ocean

You came into the world blue,
and hands first,
a tiny clutch of fist and promise
raised to the light.

I remember you
lifted loose with
the goddess rope,
that hotline back to the big everything,
wrapped once around your neck,
the great ocean holding on too long,
not wanting to let its daughter go.

Every one has that terror moment, I know.
Your blue arrival was mine.

I remember it,
as you were lifted loose,
the doc untangling you,
the tiny mask breathing oxygen into you,
you blooming pink,
sparks kindling into perfect popping fire,
and the universe breathing out.

You, long awaited, a slow rising wave that finally broke,
you sang an ocean worth of salt and song,
as something long asleep,
and buried deep inside my chest,
cleared its cobwebbed throat.

And I remember you,
sprawled across your mumma’s chest,
with curled fingers
tapping your morse code hello,
your first filled lungs
singing out their ocean songs,
your at last opening eyes,
and the first flash of a
gentler kind of blue,
from a tiny holy ocean,
that both our hearts
swam into.

12 thoughts on “Little Ocean”

  1. such a precious moment… in a turbulent sea of emotion too. reading made me ponder the miracle of life, and the fragility of it. beautiful imagery, and emotion so engaging, i had to re-read.

    beautiful words from you, again, Simon. i have to follow you – can’t wait to read more of your work.

    1. Thanks so much Kat. This little poem is very special to me and it’s wonderful to know that others appreciate it too.

      1. Thanks Cindy! And thanks to you and Mr Ocean(?) for MCing. I always feel indebted to all the wonderful people who do the organising so we can do the enjoying. Cheers!

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