An arrival

It is wild to be here.
Even our most mundane
days we are galloping past stars. Even
the quietest life; one of ironed cotton,
simple pleasures, affection and abundance,
one in which the only trauma was being born;
(a trauma I do not take lightly);
even these lives are astonishing, terrifying.
This is the peaceful life I offer you,
at least for now. I bake banana bread
while my wounds heal. I put out niger seeds
for exquisite finches and think maybe they will mistake
this parched garden for a savannah.
I hold you in my arms.
I have never seen charcoal eyes before.
Your skin translucent, so spare I don’t know
how you hold together. A death foretold looks up at me.
Will it be water, fire or stone? I know
I brought you here too late, for certainly the earth
will take us back before the cold hospital sheets
beckon you. I sift through the elements
taking what I need for you;
foundation, fluency, fire,
freedom. The future falls
open like pages.

Charlotte Crossland is a poet and writer living on the south coast of England with her young family. She works as an anaesthetist and enjoys sea swimming and watching the birds. She also finds herself frequently playing Lego, wrestling and recreating scenes from Star Wars with her two young sons.

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1 Response to An arrival

  1. kathypon says:


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