![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbcWM0lUX44ITeLj2zyHXwj-d6cY0kU_xXYkLGPw6sQiUiG1Q8_Zjf-6VJBB6NweQgfLyz_jp3USCcnCZGEd6uqHKHUo_Rp1PcycvKCAmrBMsG1ip1XBaXLQAqb2jf0wbNwGXJXG8I5Jl9/s320/mother+and+sleepy+child+1790+kitagawa+utamaro+woodblock+print.jpg)
(Mother and Sleepy Child by Kitagawa
Utamaro, 1753?-1806, one of the greatest
of Japanese woodblock printmakers; his
work had a profound influence on the
Impressionist painters of the nineteenth
century)
The intimate connection that a mother makes with her child in the womb doesn’t end at birth.
NOW THAT I AM FOREVER WITH CHILD
How the days went
While you were blooming within me
I remember each upon each —
The swelling changed planes of my body —
And how you first fluttered, then jumped
And I thought it was my heart.
How the days wound down
And the turning of winter
I recall, with you growing heavy
Against the wind. I thought
Now her hands
Are formed, and her hair
Has started to curl
Now her teeth are done
Now she sneezes.
Then the seed opened
I bore you one morning just before spring —
My head rang like a fiery piston
My legs were towers between which
A new world was passing.
Since then
I can only distinguish
One thread within running hours
You . . . flowing through selves
Toward you.
~ Audre Lord (1934-1992), American poet
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