States of Alyrica: From Seed to Sprout

Category: Recycled Poetry/Variations on a Theme

Journal: Earth Mother

Dates: 2005-2007, 2011

States of Alyrica: In the Womb

by Felina Lune Kavi

11-7-05

muffled music

of a world outside

where voices connect

and bodies touch.

there is something beyond

the comfort of these walls.

there is something

outside of myself.

tangled noises,

mangled in mystery,

disturb the peace

but awaken the mind.

there is everything else

besides what is here.

there is everything

waiting for me.

Baby Hands

by Felina Lune Kavi

5-16-06

these are my hands.

when i was a newborn,

Grandma warned Mom

i would scratch my face

with these nails.

Mom and Dad dressed me

in pink and purple potato-sacks

with built-in mittens.

i didn't see these things

for a while

unless i was naked or bathing.

later i grew out of those clothes

and was introduced

to mittenless shirts

and footless pants,

and re-introduced to these hands

and those feet.

they're wiggly and free

and i watch and wonder

at them.

now i can

pull out a pacifier,

hold on to a finger,

pet a kitty,

fit a fist in my mouth,

and grasp a spit-rag

like i can grasp

the significance

of why i have

these hands.

Daughter

by Felina Lune Kavi

4-10-07

like my own parents,

your father and i

will give everything we have

for you to grow happy, healthy, and sound--

rise up from solid ground.

give you everything you need

to know the beat of your own drum

and walk with pride from where you've come

toward choices we can't even predict.

no matter what,

i fear you are your mother's daughter.

no matter what,

the possibility is there

that you will reject these things we give

and live like tomorrow has no promise

like foundations can't be trusted

and good intentions misunderstand you.

your hands are like mine,

searching the scenery

for those things you're not allowed to have--

like mysteries

my parents kept hidden from my knowledge,

too young to understand

the complexity of protection.

you want to taste the world

with your own tongue--

placing unknown objects in your mouth,

though some are far too big to swallow.

and i swoop in with a panic--

pushing fingers through pursed lips,

gripping the danger from your teeth

while you bite the hand that feeds you.

and i finally understand

how my own parents

could stomach my angry resentment

and the words that meant to bite...

when i would fight against

a sheltered life.

no matter what,

like my own parents,

your father and i

will fight whatever fight

to keep you alive.

She Strikes the Seventh, Smiling Sweetly

by Felina Lune Kavi

4-3-11

Such a sensible soul,

But a strange one too…

Smiling sweetly as she strikes the seventh.

Lyra, Lyra…

Quite contrary…

Blooming wild, but up toward the heavens.

Little Raven girl

Always talking now…

Singing pictures and asking the answers.

Such pure wisdom

Disguised playfully…

Sacred stone in the heart of a dancer.

She loves the world,

And she means it too…

Because no one has ever betrayed her.

Still she embraces life

As free as it comes…

Saving all the hard lessons for later.