Sunday, April 01, 2012

O sweet spontaneous

O sweet spontaneous
 earth how often have

           fingers of
 prurient philosophers pinched

 ,has the naughty thumb
 of science prodded

       beauty      .how
 oftn have religions taken
 thee upon their scraggy knees
 squeezing and

 buffeting thee that thou mightest conceive

 to the incomparable
 couch of death thy

           thou answerest

 them only with


e.e. cummings
For some reason this poem was going through my head when I was shivering in the (astonishingly cold) operating theatre undergoing a c-section. I was in labour (unimaginable pain, waves of it), for minutes, hours (all day): the closest parallel which occurred to me at the time, in my drugged state,  was that I was being oppressed by an enormous ceiling fan beating ceaselessly overhead, Apocalypse-Now style, delivering layers of agony). Birth by c-section, the crucial part, takes 5 minutes; the longest part is being stitched up again. When the baby was removed, I could feel a strange stretching and tugging sensation. I think I must have been deliriously equating the poem with the reality: the doting fingers of prurient doctors pinched and poked me so I answered them only with Max.


Anna MR said...


He has arrived then?

Is his name Max?

My love and congratulations to you - all three, although more you than the other two (okay - quite a bit to Max as well), for you are the agent through which all the prodding and poking (and excruciating pain) brought to the world a new life. Life, and a universe of new possibilities: perfection.

Love, hugs, congratulations - and welcome to the world, little man


LottieP said...

Thank you Anna. Yes, his name is Max. He's beautiful. Cx

nmj said...

Lovely to know that all is well! Welcome to the world, Max. x

LottieP said...

Thank you, NMJ. All is indeed well.