Womb of Memory
Who
will find words
to weave
tomorrow’s story?
Smile-plastered
words
that writhe
out of the womb
of memory.
Who
wants
to talk about that
place of hesitation,
of joyous tumbles?
That space of balance,
the seedbed
of feeble formation.
Who
cares to jog our memories?
Of the warm smell of peace,
nine months in a dwelling
perfumed by promise,
fragrances of hope?
Who
can relive the calm?
Of the coolest waiting-room
Inhabited by one and all?
The wildness of dance-moves
on the floor of freshness?
Does
anyone remember?
The quiet and cozy months spent
In the shatterproof foyer
before being pushed
into real action?