First Taste

As I wean her
I visit primal places
Headwaters of rivers
Beginnings of valleys
Watching things
that brew and build
unbidden Alchemy
makes its way to daylight

There are women at the river
filling vessels
where the waters pool
against the rocks
And I have been there once
and long ago

And I too left a trail
of puddles Wet footprints
Looking back I see
they are gone
Warmed and dried
by some strange sun

And she strains and searches
against me Her mouth
a sweet hot blister
I am carved out
by her cries So deep
I think I may flow again
Sweet honey First food

Let me tell you this
She is still so small
and perfect Wild berry
Too small even to breathe
my name that first word

How soon
How soon we hunger



Poet's note: I wrote this poem when I was weaning my daughter at a very young age because of my need to take medications that were not safe for nursing babies. The process was wrenching for both of us (she staged a four-day hunger strike!). The poem tries to capture the experience of loss.