Giving Birth

Rhianna and Baby

The moments when giving birth is less about pregnancy and more about creation:

It’s when your mind is so full—brimming with thoughts and experiences that you must spread your legs push the fluid coated child of creativity. Cut the embilical cord that connects you between the bridge of cocksureness and fright.

We should’ve encouraged him more. I should have told him that I didn’t really want to bear his child but that I wanted him to have MINE. To have his own baby that I could be proud of and show around to all of my girlfriends. That I wanted him to seduce and make love to himself until the eruption was no longer satisfying, no longer an intense release, but a deep pain. I wanted this child to be a part of him so that it would hurt to separate it from his own flesh.

I didn’t encourage him as much in those last days. I grew tired of feeling like I was the only one nourishing his child. It was as if he didn’t care about the development if its fingers and toes. Maybe I didn’t care either. I was the one with the cigarette sitting too close and letting the embrio inhale my demise. But there isn’t a day that I don’t consider his woes of child-bearing. I injected him with fertility shots everyday. I prayed that he would be able to create something so deep inside of him that no matter how much I cried for attention, he would shut me out and worry about that baby inside of him. It was what I wanted. It is what separates boys from fathers.

Those emotions that I now see deep seated in his eyes. A brown and fiery amber; the color of translucent autumn leaves resting on the thin and slick surface of a lazy fresh body of water. But how much encouragement is too much? Would it soon make me the friend telling the teenmom to “have the baby”?

There is one thing that is true about creation: It is a girl, it is a bond, and an emerging force of power so great that nothing can keep it from its fruition.

In order for the fruit to be sweet, it should have the time to fully ripen. It must be thourouly tested through trial and error. It must be looked at with a loving and inquisitive eye. One must not pluck it off too soon — in attemps to keep only the finest fruits.

Prematurity is a sad thing. And though we will never say it; we were always scared of having a premature child.

2 thoughts on “Giving Birth

  1. MIss M I can envision you writing a book of vignettes. You write with a warm kind voice which is appealing. i think I mentioned to you once that I really liked writer Al Young. He wrote a series of essays with the titles of mainly jazz or pop songs. (sorry no hip hop) He then discussed in a personal way how the songs related to his life. He too writes in a warm and world wise way. He is famous for poetry also. Best, Mark

  2. This sounds different (to me.) I had to move around a lot to see you in it.

    Meanwhile: I saw a video by Bjork the other day. I don’t pay much attention to Bjork (is that right…am I spelling that right?), though my son appreciates her work. I can see the art…it just confounds me (usually.) I wanted to ask him what he thought of this particular piece…when at some point along the way, I had the idea that it might be better to ask him to write something WHILE watching the video or while under it’s influence. Not particularly to wrtie ABOUT it but to simply communicate while it was in the air he would breathe. I felt that if he let the piece move in and through him. no matter what he said / came up with, it would answer my question.

    Your speech has changed in the past couple of pieces.

    If there were a bright new world, a world that could meet your most hidden and outlandish dreams…the world that YOU would create if you could…what would that world be like?

    Always be prepared to make that leap. To catch that ring as you move by at the speed of thought (much faster than the speed of light.) It exists and the gate is made only of your choice. Choose it and everything you need to enter will be made available to you…by you.

    I promise.

    the Other M.

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