Dec 2023
He is gentle ,
Sleeping ,
Waking.
Tossing and turning,
Yearning,
Aching.
Voice unknown,
Only sound
That seems to linger.
Crying,
Screaming ,
A dramatic temper.
He is unknown to me,
Blood as cold as ice.
No rhythm in my heart
When I look into his eyes.
But alas,
He is mine,
And mine he shall become.
For I am young,
And choose to be one with my son.
Sleeping ,
Waking.
Tossing and turning,
Yearning,
Aching.
Voice unknown,
Only sound
That seems to linger.
Crying,
Screaming ,
A dramatic temper.
He is unknown to me,
Blood as cold as ice.
No rhythm in my heart
When I look into his eyes.
But alas,
He is mine,
And mine he shall become.
For I am young,
And choose to be one with my son.
This poem is a short poem simply about the effects of birth and motherhood. How one may become distant to their child at first and the struggle behind that. But in time they adapt and find love for their son/daughter with support. If anyone is struggling with post partum depression/psychosis, you are heard. You will get through this.
(21/F/Waterford)
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