.
.
She is the legend, I am the storyteller
Yet at this moment she is
but a faint flutter in my belly —
soft/sturdy plastic pouch housing
this feisty fish all glimmer & gold
hurling her tiny body against the confines
of a motherland — its sharp, swelling waves
a symphony of loss. She cannot be swept
away by the same tsunami that pinned me
in cold embrace, whispering of the slow
delicious dark depths eager to claim me
as their own. She will be born with no trace
of apology, defying odds, yet never at odds
with the wind-wild essence of the women
who came before, flowers strewn through
raven and chestnut hair, feet sturdy upon
sun-warmed earth — women with no fear
who inherited herbal wisdom, a warm healing
touch that drew in people from miles away
who longed for a remedy or the gentle smile
of someone who had traversed vast worlds
beyond them. In this familiar foretelling,
I arrive at the doorstep of my ancestors,
renewal of her-story cloaked in the crinkly
eyes of a mother reclaiming land. I’m a child
holding out my basket with trembling hands,
eager to collect all that was meant for me.
I feel her tiny, insistent kicks catapulting me
into the present moment and cannot hold back
my smile: tremulous as a shy burst of sunlight
finally fortified and flourishing after the storm
.
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About the Author: Melody Wang currently resides in sunny Southern California with her dear husband and wishes it were autumn all year ‘round. Her debut collection of poetry “Night-blooming Cereus” was released in December 2021 with Alien Buddha Press. She can be found on Twitter @MelodyOfMusings or at her website https://linktr.ee/MelodyOfMusings
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Image Credit: Chase Dimock “Fern Fronds” (2022)
As It Ought To Be 