I have several poems I have gathered from here and there..Being Born Is Important
Being born is important
You who have stood at the bedposts
and seen a mother on her high harvest day,
the day of the most golden of harvest moons for her.
You who have seen the new wet child
dried behind the ears,
swaddled in soft fresh garments,
pursing its lips and sending a groping mouth
toward the nipples where white milk is ready~
You who have seen this love’s payday
of wild toil and sweet agonizing~
You know being born is important.
You know nothing else was ever so important to you.
You understand the payday of love is so old,
So involved, so traced with the circles of the moon,
So cunning with the secrets of the salts of the blood~
It must be older than the moon, older than the salt.
My baby is strong and healthy.
I trust my body.
My belly is full of light and love.
I am a strong and capable woman.
I have patience.
My cervix is firm and strong to hold my baby safe.
I am at peace with the world.
There is no need for us to hurry.
I have an open heart.
I am strong and calm and beautiful.
Birth is a wonderful, safe experience.
My body knows exactly what to do.
My baby feels my joy.
I trust my labor.
I am open to the energy of birth.
My baby is born in pure pleasure.
I ask for and receive what I need.
I am a willow tree,
Strong, yet fluid
I can bend with the wind,
but my roots are tough,
Opening to birth my child
is flowing with the wind:
from a soft and gentle breeze
to a stormy gale
back to a soft and gentle breeze.
My body is strong, but flexible.
It is my friend, it knows how to open.
I am a friend to my body
eating well, walking, and loving myself.
I shall birth safely, freely, openly . . .
among my loved and trusted ones.
I am the willow, flexible
endowed with the power of surrender
to the wind rustling through my leaves,
My roots reach deep into Mother Earth
Anchored in Her strength
I bring forth life
and a final one
Dear Baby, here beneath my heart,
I thought that you might come today;
The timing seemed just right.
But the stars are out
And the moon is high
And sheepishly I wonder why
I try to arrange the plans
For now I know
You will not come
Until the One who holds eternity
Rustles your soft cocoon
And whispers in tones that I will not hear,
"It's time, precious gift."
"Now it's time."
-by Robin Jones
I hope others share things that have touched them! I love having a collection handy for when I need that special one!