It was a baby boy. I had him. My movements were exact. I checked myself in. A door to a room, another door, a room. There, amongst scraps of old, used fabric, in blues, and browns, and creams, soft, and good for quilt-making, he came. My swaddled babe. But I was alone, with babe in my arms, and out of the room, out the door, out of the room, out the door. He never left with me.
© 2023 Jennifer Wagner
Prose poem/description of a dream
I have dreams a few times a year in which I have a baby. Sometimes I think they may have something to do with the ones I lost in miscarriages, though maybe the dreams symbolize something else altogether. Of course, dreams can also just be dreams. At any rate, they do always remind me how heroic it is to become a mother. So, Happy Mother’s Day to all the moms reading this. You are amazing.
9 comments:
Sorry to hear of your miscarriages.
Thanks for braving it up and sharing this poem with us.
Much💖love
Your prose is so dreamlike, Jennifer, I’m sure I’ve had a similar dream in the past, especially the ‘door to a room, another door, a room’.
Beautifully written. It is so ethereal and captivating.
This is so poignant and powerful, Jennifer...
Sincerely,
David
SkepticsKaddish.com
Love your title and your bravery in sharing your intimate dream. When you dream of babies think of what babies symbolize to you and it may help your sort it out.
Thanks for the Mother's Day wishes. I'm the mom of two adult sons, one of whom is almost 40.
Beautifully moving as I had experienced it too. Happy Mother's day!!!
Beautiful blog
I would borrow the word from Linda. These lines are ethereal. It is almost as if we walked into your dream and walked out with you, alone.
Happy Mother's day.
This is so tender Jennifer--it is so odd to me still that beauty comes so often from pain.
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