same mirror, changing reflections,
A year ago we had just arrived in france. I adorned our bedroom with white; butterflies, linen, lampshade, curtains. it felt airy and provincial. I was still in the high of moving countries, glad to be living alone with my husband for the first time, surprised by the warm weather, eager to put my heart and mind to work...
Then we had an infestation of flying ants and had to replace the floors, re-do the walls in our bedroom and the ceiling too - we decided to paint the cupboards in the process. I helped sand the doors and paint them. I felt hungry, headachey and tired. Unbeknownst to us, a little life wriggled inside.
Then, with my hair a little longer,
we discovered I was carrying a baby, our baby.
so I watched my belly grow; every day a little more in the reflection...
Now I wake beside my stirring child, a boy -
who, when catching his reflection in mirrors smiles,
which makes me smile.
Of course I am still the woman I was then,
I am, and yet I'm changed,
I am permanently patterned by the growing, birthing
nursing, and nurturing of my child -
by lines ancient, feminine,
vulnerable, potent, true.