EARTH MOTHER (For The Midwife) - John Shane - click here to listen to a poem celebrating the mystery of birth

As chaos in ‘the world of men’ seems to threaten the rule of law & the rules-based international order, I offer you this poem celebrating the mystery of birth & the lifework of a wonderful woman…

To protect its mystery, I will not comment here on the imagery of this poem or on the technical aspects of the writing of it in the hours immediately after the birth of my daughter Jessie.

I think the emotions that I was feeling at the time are evident in the poem itself.

I invite you to immerse yourself in the sound of the words of the poem as I read them in the audio clip above and in the triumphant sound of the conch shell being blown in the audio clip that you’ll find below the written text of the poem…

---

CLICK ON THE PLAY BUTTON ABOVE at the right hand side of the page to listen to John Shane reading his poem…

---

---

---

EARTH MOTHER

(For The Midwife)

John Shane

---

---

For Liza Ward-Ramlow

midwife at the birth

of my daughter Jessie

at the Franklin County Hospital

in Greenfield, Massachusetts, USA

on October 17, 1985

---

---

I know

that I

- who do not

serve as you do -

Am not worthy

to hold a candle

to this vision, Liza

---

But when

the mist rises

- just for a moment -

I see you

on the shore

Where the

waves come

crashing

With all the power

 of  thunder

---

I am no stranger, Liza

to the threshold

Where the deep

gives up her

bounty;

---

But I see

you know

the tides

of these

waters well

And can read

their ebb

and flow

---

Your eyes, like

those of Liberty

are staring out to sea

---

Your hands

are raised in

welcome;

---

You hold

corn, grass

apples

---

Squalls of wind

pull at your

drenched hair

- matted with wet weed -

---

You narrow your eyes

and strain to see

But the wind

blows strong

Swirling

the mist

down and

around

Until you 

lose sight

of even

yourself

And can

hear only

moans, howls

and grunts

---

I am not worthy

to sing this song

who do not serve

- as you do -

---

But I know

from waiting

on the Muse

That the moon

reigns over this

scene, Liza

And hers

is the power

That governs

this blood

---

Your feet are

on dry land

But your eyes

are out to sea

---

Midwife

mid-wave

- half  wise

woman

half waif -

---

All the wonder

and the terror

Of the

deep

Bear down

on you

as the storm

Rages

abates

and rages

again

---

You feel as if

you are torn apart;

your face is wet

with tears

- half joy

- half pain

---

Every frontier

takes its toll, Liza

and those who wait

upon this shoreline

Are sometimes

weighted

down

As if drowning

in abundance

---

To stay so long

this close to the

threshold

Is somehow

more  than anyone

can bear

---

For whole

breathless

moments

We seem part

of the divine

---

Only to fall back

- exhausted -

Into

the mundane

again

---

Unable to integrate

Into their essential

underlying 

unity.

---

I am not worthy

- who only watch –

To do more

than offer

this song

---

But I see you

Raise the conch

to your lips, Liza

And sound it

Loud and

strong

---

---

---

CLICK ON THE PLAY BUTTON ABOVE to listen to the sound of the conch being sounded….

---

---

---

---