A poem dedicated to Leboyer and a quest for YOUR poem for birth-preparation

This tiger, what is he doing here?

He is the image of your fear!

Look at him with attention.

Doesn't he have a charming smile?

In my last blog 'Hedgehog in the fog' I dedicated the following sentences to a book of Leboyer I've recently read as a preparation for the birth of my third child: 

'Today I read Leboyer's beautiful book 'Atmen, singen, gebaeren' (in german). It is about using breath and voice to stay above the waves (the birthing-contractions). A voice, a tone that feels like 'yourself' is all that is needed to not let the ship strand. While reading I experienced again, feeling freshly born in the simple beauty of a day.'

Frédérick Leboyer (born November 1, 1918) is a French obstetrician and author. He is best known for his 1975 book, Birth Without Violence, which popularized gentle birthing techniques.

I had a laugh with my midwife when she handed me the book saying ‘Oh he’s a man to want to marry!’
Me: ‘Isn’t he a bit too old? I mean I do like my man being older than I am, but that old..’
‘Well, probably he has a son??’ We both laughed. I know she is in a happy relationship and her 'wanna-marry-saying’ was just her way of expressing her admiration as a midwife for his birthing knowledge and philosophy.

Now I got to the point that I have to confess that I am even worse! I wrote a poem for the man, calling him Captain Birth & Mister Lighthouse….Blimey!
The process of writing this poem felt like a good way to internalize what I’ve read and I warmly recommend other pregnant woman to translate birthing-literature you found inspiring into a poem of your own. Sentences of it might be even useful as affirmations?

Anyway, here is the poem:

Leboyer

Captain Birth dictates to be on the top of each wave,
to stay awake, to not be swept away but let it sweep through,
to stay true to the tone that is you, to be on that tone,
he dictates, Mister Lighthouse, her glowing shorelines
floating on focus.

He guides her with a choir of bees. with the tambura
and the no-sound of peace, from deep out of the earth,
vibrating through sea.

With the strictness rooted in love of a born teacher
he does the only thing he can do, opening mermaids
tales into legs, mother mouths melting open for babies
as they happen, naturally.


Please share with me the poem that you've written after reading specific birthing literature, or the affirmations that you've written/used yourself. Possibly there is an existing poem of another writer that you found to be inspiring for birth? I would be so delighted to hear there are more woman who use poetry as a way to get to their core of tranquility..

From this poem I thought ' to stay awake, 
to not be swept away but let it sweep through,

to stay true to the tone that is you, to be on that tone'
could be used as an affirmation.

And: ' mother mouths melting open for babies
as they happen, naturally' 

Mammoth

When the sea came over the mammoth, did it cry?
When it lay flat on the bottom did its eye
still turn up, looking for the sky? What my child means:
Did it mind? Did it matter? If the animal would have
been human would it have written a last letter?

Did the sea mean to take her? Is dying like falling asleep
or did she wake up? What was left when death peeled
off her mammoth-makeup? Is there something like
a break up?

Is it a loss or gain that we find these bones today
from what we did not know existed?

I dream a Mammoth awake
to walk through my river. 

Home is where the wasteland

Far from fragile minds in a bandage

far from their city of dreams in ruins
a tortoise white as sand white as tortoise
in its day in a skin crawling over skin.

Open bay for the sea to float in
the skyline it’s prayer hums
the same deep sound as everything.

Free from the broken fragile minds
tearing open each other’s bodies
with contrary dreams. Will we ever be

fulfilled in the unseen? That close
to nothing, the horizon holds the glow
of sunset. Before it gets dark a mother
pours her love down into her nameless
future daughter.

Life pours her self into no self
for tomorrow’s blooming. 

Ripping A Paper Landscape

Ripping into pieces

that´s what movement is about now

she walks through the landscape

of her life and sees it´s only paper

a few paper stones and paper trees

a paper panorama yes it´s

a breathtaking paper view

and she rips it into pieces

Beginning where she stands

ripping in a spiral trying not to fall

where emptiness appears

ripping at first with care

then with fear

running and jumping

then crying over how strong

a paper rock can be

Oh Island she cries how much I love you

with your greys and browns and whites

and tiny little sparks of coloured light

oh my vulnerable home

how much can one love

all your heartbreaking songs

I can not rip these sounds

but I have to

and she rips along the coastline

Nothing of the woman´s ripping

wil cause the sea to roar louder or less

all earth is in her embrace anyway

each and every korn of sand

is hers

A mens chest she rips along

there where he stands she says

not now my love my love

I rather watch you watching me

I´ve got this fizzing firefingers

When all is desolate and torn apart

she stops

goes home

stretches

plays some jazz.

A life in a closet on the ocean

In the silence of no-thought - The sound of the sea

1.
I live in a closet, just because I like the smell of the wood. Closets always remind me of the ocean. I don´t know why, but somehow a human-body in a closet drifting somewhere on the ocean is familiar to me. To my humble opinion a human-being in a closet is just as natural as an auster in a shell.
It may sound a little bit more edgy, a little less organic but don´t forget that wood is something alive. It´s like being inside of a tree in the water and guess what´s beneath the water? It´s motherf*cking earth. And what´s under this earth? Maybe it´s not yet fire but somewhere it must get bloody hot in there, like a a club where the hottest materials go naked and dance extatic. In a closet in the ocean you are pretty close to it all. And above there are the stars.
Think about it, everything that is giving light comes out of something dark.
So when I come out of the closet on the dark ocean in the black night and lay myself on it I´m giving light. Something will find it´s way to me, that´s for sure. I feel so much love over there, thinking about the word ´ressonation´. Maybe a dolphin will lay itself on my body, blessing me with inspiration for a lifetime, and than think again what could be resonating more with this than happiness. The creature finding you in a closet in the ocean is your true soulmate that you missed for ages.
Besides you don´t have to do any meditation-courses anymore. Just lock yourself up and feel free in the smell of the wood. It can even talk! Hello, it says, I congratulate you, every day is your birthday.

*words by lauri*