The days will lengthen
the voice of the veery thrush
will be heard on our land
the tiny stars of crocuses
well-rested from the long dark
will adorn the icy mud of spring
the sap already rising
will feed a million tiny banners
unfurling across the hills
and this small blue pill
will banish anxiety, restore to me
the woman I only dimly remember
laughing in photographs
with her hand on her round belly
hope curled inside, waiting to unfold
This week's prompt at readwritepoem is #115: what do you believe? Back in 2005 I made a post called Credo, in which I articulated my own set of beliefs (though I carefully didn't look back at that post until I'd written this week's poem!) -- this time, I wound up taking a different tack on the question of what I believe. (For what it's worth, I still resonate with everything I put in that credo, though most of those statements are too general to feel like good poetry to me.)
If you're not familiar with the call of the veery thrush, take a look at (and listen to!) this 2008 post -- the veery's song is one of my favorites around here, though not at this time of year.
This is another in my continuing series of mother poems.
One in eight women suffer from postpartum depression (source: Postpartum.net.) Or maybe the figure is somewhere between 11 and 20 percent of women nationwide (source: the CDC, cited in this article.) One way or another, like miscarriage, it's more common than I realized. It's also a source of shame for many women, and it shouldn't be. If you are the mother of a new baby and have been unhappy for more than two weeks, please seek help.
As always, you can read others' responses to this RWP prompt at this week's Get Your Poem On post.