Sunday, September 19, 2010

"For Juliet on the Day of Her Christening" by Catherine A.G. Bayly

As I sit, tired, my eyes are blinking over the strawberry-washed memories of the day with Juliet.
Touching a sweet small hand, that is silken and tea-warm, reminds me of the existence of life's sweet tiny joys -
And massive, sloping futures.

Juliet, in one perfect moment in chaos - an eclipse of the feelings of swooping, wingswept, and also sitting still.
She is a tiny, self-contained intricately-woven basket, capturing and enrapturing us in the reasons why we live.

Holding a new baby, soft as a sack of sandman's warm night-giving dust.
A feeling that resonates like deep sea booming song through the holder's torso.
Feeling a locket-sized heartsnap beautifully beating shocks sunshade-perfumed air into my lungs -
For the first time in centuries, Juliet has made me feel alive.

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