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The Eagle with Blue Feathers by Kimmery Moss
The Eagle with Blue Feathers
Kimmery Moss
He falls asleep connected to me
His little lips on my chest
Hours later he wakes again for more
But I am no longer able
Supplies are low, desires are low
Mother is like an eagle who has been flying too long
I must perch upon my own soul and rest
I sing you to sleep this time
You claw at me and I am wounded
I read somewhere that OM calms babies
It was the first sound of the universe anyhow
How we know something that seems unknowable is irrelevant at four thirty four am
I OM something like twenty seven times before I lay you back down
My shoulder aches from my own doing
My stomach growls even though I filled it just hours before
My heart feels something akin to filling a bucket and simultaneously dumping it on frozen dirt
I will still be myself on the other side of this
though I will be different:
The eagle with blue feathers
Still circling the skies
Eyes on predators, eyes on the next meal
Only he does not want me in the skies
He wants me beside him, he wants me in his mouth, he wants me forever
The comfort is enough to burst my seams
The love is what I dreamt of when I set about creation
I would do it all exactly the way I did if the etch-a-sketch had been erased
had I the need to reckon and reassess
I'd retrace every last line with deft fingers
I'd stretch myself again for my own flesh
I'd feed every feed again, every time
no matter the blur of the hour
It's a wonder if we, mothers, ever feel whole again
our DNA walking the earth outside ourselves
not needing milk any longer
needing their own sustenance now-
the purpose driven gathering of information
every experience sought for its own dopamine goldmine.
Their own wings stretched wide
Their own eyes keen for what they need
It won't be mother soon.
How do I ever look back without longing?
It is true, it is
Time
The baby eagle has been sleeping for minutes already
and I circle still,
The skies are clear, but I circle still.
This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit rembrandtscure.substack.com
* More from Kimmery Moss ↓
* @kimmerywrites on Instagram
* Her book Wolf Mother: A New Love Story is out now.
* Wolf Words: A Poetry Subscription for Women
You can listen to me read Kimmery Moss’, I collect first lines of poems, over on Instagram @rembrandts.cure
Submissions are open. If you have a poem you want me to read on the podcast, now’s the time.
I’m looking for the one that lights you up. The one you’re proud of. The one you can’t read without crying. The one that makes you feel something big.
Let’s make space for the one this Fall on One Poem Only.
Deadline is Thursday, July 31.
🍎 Submit Here 🍎
This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit rembrandtscure.substack.com
View all episodes
By Maggie DeversThe Eagle with Blue Feathers
Kimmery Moss
He falls asleep connected to me
His little lips on my chest
Hours later he wakes again for more
But I am no longer able
Supplies are low, desires are low
Mother is like an eagle who has been flying too long
I must perch upon my own soul and rest
I sing you to sleep this time
You claw at me and I am wounded
I read somewhere that OM calms babies
It was the first sound of the universe anyhow
How we know something that seems unknowable is irrelevant at four thirty four am
I OM something like twenty seven times before I lay you back down
My shoulder aches from my own doing
My stomach growls even though I filled it just hours before
My heart feels something akin to filling a bucket and simultaneously dumping it on frozen dirt
I will still be myself on the other side of this
though I will be different:
The eagle with blue feathers
Still circling the skies
Eyes on predators, eyes on the next meal
Only he does not want me in the skies
He wants me beside him, he wants me in his mouth, he wants me forever
The comfort is enough to burst my seams
The love is what I dreamt of when I set about creation
I would do it all exactly the way I did if the etch-a-sketch had been erased
had I the need to reckon and reassess
I'd retrace every last line with deft fingers
I'd stretch myself again for my own flesh
I'd feed every feed again, every time
no matter the blur of the hour
It's a wonder if we, mothers, ever feel whole again
our DNA walking the earth outside ourselves
not needing milk any longer
needing their own sustenance now-
the purpose driven gathering of information
every experience sought for its own dopamine goldmine.
Their own wings stretched wide
Their own eyes keen for what they need
It won't be mother soon.
How do I ever look back without longing?
It is true, it is
Time
The baby eagle has been sleeping for minutes already
and I circle still,
The skies are clear, but I circle still.
This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit rembrandtscure.substack.com
* More from Kimmery Moss ↓
* @kimmerywrites on Instagram
* Her book Wolf Mother: A New Love Story is out now.
* Wolf Words: A Poetry Subscription for Women
You can listen to me read Kimmery Moss’, I collect first lines of poems, over on Instagram @rembrandts.cure
Submissions are open. If you have a poem you want me to read on the podcast, now’s the time.
I’m looking for the one that lights you up. The one you’re proud of. The one you can’t read without crying. The one that makes you feel something big.
Let’s make space for the one this Fall on One Poem Only.
Deadline is Thursday, July 31.
🍎 Submit Here 🍎
This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit rembrandtscure.substack.com