the wombs

into and out of

I lay in bed this morning, the world still dark.

I saw you walking into that frigid lake.

The police said your shoes were on the driver’s side floor when they released

Your car to us.

Did we want him to move them into the trunk?

Yes, please.

So you had no shoes on then. 

Were your feet bare? Why?

Would shoes not have helped you with 

Your mission? Was it habit?

Or did you want to feel the softness

below your skin?

I see you there, one foot in

A shock to the body

Nerve endings sending frantic messages

To your brain

It’s too cold, abort, abort.

A hijacked brain hellbent on other

Your foot. The same foot that I used to

Press against my face when you were small

Those little feet 

The crooked toe that took up

its unfair share of space.

When you were still small

The orthopaedic surgeon said

‘Why you’re such a lucky little girl!

Only the fastest runners in the world have a crooked toe like that!”

You forever believed in your superpower toe.

Into that icy water went your toes

And those feet on those powerful legs

That propelled you backwards and forwards

And into impossible turns with angles that defied

Gravity on those frozen ice pads. 

My ballerina in armour.

Those legs that propelled your beautiful body

Forward. With momentum.

Forward. With drive and conviction.

You pushed through boys the size of men in

Hockey. Took them all on.

You plowed through swarms of powerful

Women in rugby. Took them all on.

You moved into that black lake, ice only

Recently retreated,

Your feet, your calves, into the water

Your knees, your thighs

With momentum.

Your sheer determination 

Tenacity that betrayed

You wrote a poem once

It was about the moment you came 

Into the world

You were so big. 

Ten pounds. Six ounces.

You got stuck on the way out, 

Grabbed onto my pelvis 

Resisted 

You wrote that it would have been so 

Simple for it to have all ended there

But then, you said, you would have

Missed out on the beautiful things

Missed out on holding a newborn baby in your arms

Seeing a sunset

Was that enough for you?

You came and lived for as long

As you could

Or as long as you ever were going to

Or as long as you could bear

Or as long as you wanted?

Or as long as it was preordained

You returned to the earth

Returned to the watery milieu of life

Darkness. Silence. Buoyant.

Back to the womb you entered through

You deciding

Those little toes, white with the cold

Those elegant fingers

Open or closed?

The light of God

The warmth of love

With you and around you in the end

You told me so and I believe you

Still.