I first became a mother on a gray and misty spring day, April 18, 1998. This Mother’s Day, my fourteenth, the midwife who helped bring both sons into the world writes me an email message to share her memories of what a devoted partner Ficre was throughout my two pregnancies and births. Solo and Simon, the loves of his life. They gave him body love until his last day to give him all the strength he would need for his journey.
I find a poem by Ficre for Solomon in my computer files and I understand as never before what the children saved him from:
The funk is loud, toxic. I am veiled
In speed and shrill, clear, one note
Screams. They are aware
I race leaving all things behind
Only to catch up with more things
to overtake. Speed.
I scream back, infected, up-lifted
“I see the moon daddy”
I hear
Every now and then
Yes we see the moon almost every day
Several times. “I see the airplane daddy”
We see as well
The lion, tiger, rhino, hippopotamus,
Donkey, bantam rooster, the hen, chick chick,
The alligator, the crocodile, the snake, the toad,
The frog, fish, bird, red bird, cat
Doggie, cow, sheep, goat, coyote, caterpillar,
Worms, butterflies, bees, ants, whales, sea lions,
Belugas, cars, trucks, homes and more homes
This is what it is like
To ride with my son
Seeing the invisible
And song.