The Child
Narrative Poem
Sometimes love is like a baseball bat— it hits us unexpectedly into the opposite field. She came into my life on a rainy afternoon— alone, pregnant, cold, scared, and blind— no more than a child herself. I tasted the purity of her tears as she rambled on for hours about her past, present and hope for the future. I served hot tea and vegetable soup and she warmed her feet by the fire. She talked of everything but him, the stranger, the father of her child, her lover from the past. I married her a month later in a small chapel with only a few close friends in attendance.
She seemed grateful for what I had done, taking away her shame and her pain, but after the child was born she changed subtly like a moon waxing and waning. She would forget to kiss me goodnight or to give me a hug when I came home from work. Her excuse was always the child— he needed her attention, her love, her passion. I would have to wait, she said, till later.
One day she turned a corner in her thinking, and began talking of people trying to kill the child. She said she had to escape, to flee to the safety of the dark forest where no one could find them. I tried to reason with her—to help her see the insanity of her thinking, the craziness of her scheme.
I still remember that night of nights when she thought I was deep in sleep. She shook the child awake, beseeching him to be quiet while she dressed him quickly layering on the woolen clothes. The sky was dark and starless as she hurried from our home down the winding streets to the edge of the forest. At least a foot of new snow covered the ground. Now and then she staggered from weariness and the weight of the child. I fought the urge to run to her and help.
She came to the edge of a cliff that overlooked the valley below and she held the baby above her head as if offering him as a present to the gods. I was afraid she might toss him over the edge or jump off herself into the dismal darkness. Instead, she broke out in song— deep, melodic, and full of heart. I could not understand the words or even fathom their meaning, but the melody mesmerized me.
We stood there for what seemed like hours until a bright light appeared and swooped down like a giant eagle to snatch the mother and child, to envelop them in its white heat, to take away everything I loved. When the light faded away, I found to my surprise that I was blind, no longer able to see even the simplest things.
Today, I sit by that cliff waiting eagerly for her return and the salvation she will bring.
Copyright © 2020 by Harley King
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