Leaving
When I left home to have my second child,
the first (latched to my legs) turned woeful, wild,
“don’t go, she cried, her “mommies” torn with “please,”
while I, as tearful, tugged her from my knees,
then picked her up to briefly wedge my heart
above the labor’s crazy stop and start.
I loved that age, that strength, but love won’t bind
much of anything that has to do with time.
So now when I hear words like “please don’t go”
I don’t return to births from long ago,
but to the bedsides dim of friends and more
where fearful like an only child, voice torn,
I pleaded with them please to please stay on,
even after every piece of them was gone.
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The above is a “Clarian Sonnet,” named after poet John Clare (1793-1864) posted for the dVerse Poets “Form For All” Challenge, and hosted by Samuel Peralta who blogs as Semaphore. It is a sonnet based upon seven rhyming couplets. (Quick editorial note – the second child was born healthy and wonderful and the first and second are now very very close.)
I am also linking this to Imperfect Prose, where Emily Wierenga blogs about motherhood and other difficult/wondrous experiences.

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