Saturday, 11 February 2017

Тя сънува/She dreams

                                                             За Лидия/For Lydia

                                                  I don’t remember singing lullabies,
                                                  though perhaps I did those first few months.

                                                  You slept between us, arms spread,
                                                  and fingers doing their best to clutch
                                                  at her straw hair and curling in on themselves.

                                                  Only half-awake then, perhaps, we murmured
                                                  words and rhymes that comforted.

                                                  We were reassuring ourselves
                                                  as much as inventing how we’d cope
                                                  with you, this new responsibility –
                                                  someone we couldn’t help but love
                                                  even then, in our most helpless moments.

                                                  Light flecks through curtains
                                                  and your first stretch
                                                  would have us wide awake again
                                                  and adjusting to those very early days.

                                                 You weren’t so easily appeased –
                                                 your snotty complaint a reminder
                                                 that we’re happiest when we dream
                                                 and at our loneliest too.

Image: Marina Shiderova; text: Tom Phillips

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