“Sparrow Dreams” (Revisited) – Third Day of National Poetry Month
Sparrow Dreams
My child is a sparrow.
The other women hold their babes in arms; I cup mine in my palms, gently, for she is a sparrow, so fragile that I am afraid that I will crush her if I hug, though sometimes I run my forefinger over her small brown head, feeling the soft downiness above brittle skull.
We sit on a bench at Rockefeller Center; it is a grey day, the air only a few shades lighter than the buildings. Our concrete bench is also grey, speckled with black grains, like crumbs of tar, sand, black hole, mixed with the cement; the sculpted box hedge at my back has, at its hollow depths, silvery branches.
She is not even a baby bird. As I hold her in my palm, she tilts her head, her eyes bead bright, while the babies of the women around me goggle fleshily; their mothers cooing over them with full-echo cheeks.
I try not to feel less significant. So, my child is a sparrow.
Then, suddenly, for some reason I cannot place, I put her down, there, at my side, on the grey stone bench. I stand, brush my hair back from my face, breath in a space of grey white air. When I turn about again, she is gone; her soft keel of breast and wing nowhere to be seen.
I search the bench, the bushes; I tug the arms of the women who mill about me.
I cry, I weep, I despair. The fact that she is a bird means nothing to me now, only that she is gone, my child, my only, my dear.
I wake up weeping. My hands, in the velvet grey of night-morn sheets, trace the soft hard curve of my belly, which is still there, still pregnant.
But all is changed, all is forever different, and I weep on, for I know now that what I am being given is something which may be lost, and that it is a loss that, unlike the child itself, I will not ever be able to bear.
And how, I wonder, will I be able to hold her when she comes–for I know that I must not grip tightly, though she can take flight–
So hard my heart is beating, so fast–
National Poetry Month! Open Link Night at DVerse Poets Pub! (Check it out!) The above which I’m calling a prose poem for these purposes is actually based on a draft poem that I wrote the third day of LAST YEAR’s National Poetry Month. To view the original, click here!
Explore posts in the same categories: poetryTags: dream of sparrow child, manicddaily, poetry, pregnancy dream poem, prose poem about motherhood, sparrow dreams
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ManicDDaily 
April 3, 2012 at 2:11 pm
This is beautiful. I love the picture as well.
April 3, 2012 at 2:15 pm
smiles….lovely capture k…we cling and cling to those children and try to protect them as best we can and then though there must come that letting go…i think you did alright with yours having met her…smiles.
April 3, 2012 at 2:20 pm
oh nice…i think all mothers can relate to this…the wanting to protect them but then so important to let go and let em spread wings and fly…ya know..i would love to sit on that bench at the rockefeller center now….sigh…
April 3, 2012 at 2:20 pm
Oh, yes!
April 3, 2012 at 2:24 pm
Yes, it’s enormous and you’ve caught that beautifully. Getting that release right.. you start as soon as they are born.. 🙂
April 3, 2012 at 2:29 pm
This is so beautiful it makes my heart ache. “full-echo cheeks”, marvelous.
What a treat this is to read today. There is something so emotionally complete in this that it spreads it’s literary wings across my heart.
It is really enough.
Lady Nyo…just in love with this.
April 3, 2012 at 2:31 pm
this is gorgeous and wonderful and filled with the truth of motherhood…
just lovely.
April 3, 2012 at 2:46 pm
Beautiful. We barely get to hold them and they’re gone…
April 3, 2012 at 2:49 pm
achingly beautiful…this rings with tenderness and wisdom. thank you for sharing..
April 3, 2012 at 3:17 pm
You make me cry here… this is so very beautiful. There’s nothing like a mother’s love.
http://lkkolp.wordpress.com/2012/04/02/639/
April 3, 2012 at 8:10 pm
Thanks, Laurie.
April 3, 2012 at 3:35 pm
Karin-I agree with Laurie, this almost makes me weep. so beautiful. dreams are often so much real-er than real life.
Very glad you re-shared it.
April 3, 2012 at 8:10 pm
Thanks so much, Jody.
April 3, 2012 at 3:36 pm
A great capture…as a mom I can relate!
April 3, 2012 at 4:23 pm
truly magnificent…you’ve expressed what every mother feels from time time…my eldest is in her Senior year of High School…I get that panicky “where has she flown off too” sensation at times simply imagining what it will be like when she is at college next year.
April 3, 2012 at 8:10 pm
Thanks so much, Laura. It is actually kind of fun to have an empty nest! Though I really love to have my children home. But it is very nice too when older ones leave and you get to know younger ones in a whole new way. K.
April 3, 2012 at 4:44 pm
Very vivid and immediate. But fly they will, I’m afraid…even from hearts that were never meant to be a cage.
April 3, 2012 at 5:00 pm
Yes. And, of course, one is happy for them to fly around! (I am any way.) Just not to be lost. k.
April 3, 2012 at 5:36 pm
This is beautiful. Thanks so much for sharing. ❤
April 3, 2012 at 5:50 pm
this is so touching and tender
pportunity on mars
April 3, 2012 at 6:33 pm
“for I know now that what I am being given is something which may be lost” … Ugh. That is a terrifying feeling. Especially with the first pregnancy.
April 3, 2012 at 6:49 pm
I’ll echo previous comments and also, really dig the prose alignment.
Works real well, and gives the piece a very nice flow.
Great work.
April 3, 2012 at 7:12 pm
I too cried, though I am not a mother. I initially had a different response to the bird (a very personal one). This is magnificent.
April 3, 2012 at 7:22 pm
Thanks so much, Anna, and to all you wonderful commenters. K.
April 3, 2012 at 7:58 pm
So very beautiful-
April 3, 2012 at 8:08 pm
Thanks so much, Cynthia.
April 3, 2012 at 8:05 pm
Sad…haunting, full of fear, yet shouting talent with each word
April 3, 2012 at 8:08 pm
Thanks so much, Gail. k.
April 3, 2012 at 9:08 pm
I love this, and completely relate. Parenthood is a glorious gift, filled with joy and optimism. but no question about it. it’s also fraught with fear and loss. My little birds flew the coop long ago, but just as the joy and optimism of being their mother remains, so does the fear and the sense of having lost my little ones.
April 3, 2012 at 9:39 pm
all the power in the world in that gentle touch. that’s why women have the universe within them.
April 3, 2012 at 9:45 pm
Thanks so much, Ed, for your lovely comment. And thanks to all for kindness of your comments. K.
April 4, 2012 at 12:33 am
This is simply beautiful. It echoes in my heart just like the sparrow herself. I think you have captured the dream, the dilemma, perfectly.
April 4, 2012 at 7:13 am
This is powerful, Karin! So true, and the fear of being a parent–making the right decisions–is palpable!. On the other hand, love and hope come through, as well. Nice one!
April 4, 2012 at 7:54 am
Your storm sounds just awful. Hope all is okay. k.
April 4, 2012 at 9:10 am
All is well.
April 4, 2012 at 8:07 am
I’m totally in love with this!
April 4, 2012 at 8:49 am
Thanks so much, Rosemary. k.
April 4, 2012 at 11:55 am
A truth and a dream..understood, well explored. Excellent prose poem. The metaphor carries through and resounds at the end. Well done.
April 4, 2012 at 12:00 pm
Thanks, Gay.
April 4, 2012 at 9:08 pm
This is indeed very beautiful, very lovely. Babies bring bring with them the awareness of a whole new world, an entirely new cosmos that it’s astonishing we did not existed. The vision you have is so powerful because it sees the simplicity at the same the entirety. I really loved this.
April 4, 2012 at 9:31 pm
Thanks so much, Charles.
April 5, 2012 at 9:15 pm
Extremely evocative and beautiful– a less formal write than I’m used to seeing from you, K., but it’s deeply compelling, still turning on your vision and voice… xj
April 5, 2012 at 9:22 pm
You are right! It is less formed in some ways as I was mixed up with a lot of things at once. At the same time, I always kind of think of myself as much more of prose writer than poet. Although I put together a book of poetry, it is really relatively foreign to me. (Perhaps why I like forms.) Though lately I’ve been writing it a lot due to all types of crazy forces. Anyway, thanks for your kind comment. K.