Poem about Tamzin "Meeting"
Here is a poem I wrote about Tamzin during those torturous Uni years
“Meeting”
'I wanted you so you came to me my blonde baby boy, my Tamzin. I made you from inside myself and with my young body, felt every moment of your growing. And you were early, just like always.
Born at home so easy, and so fast. Reached out my arms, my hands wanting, slid my fingers into your tiny armpits, and lifted you up to my heart. I lay you down upon my skin, and stroked your slippery back so warm from my body, my lovely baby. A boy all covered with butter.
Devoted I was, watching you grow, obsessed with you, my baby. Like any mother feeling every breath, catching every memory, sleeping waking moving still. I tried to capture all your ways, recording all your looks, all your songs, your special words - every treasure written. All your dreaming, dancing running fast ahead.
But when walking one day down a cold city street, I remember with shame I complained, I felt sad and alone. Tiny boy you were then, yet far stronger than me. For you held my young hand in your comforting way, all knowing at only four. “You shouldn’t get lonely, you’ve got me. I’m your friend. I’m not lonely ‘cos I’ve got you. I’m a person too and I think things. I think about lots of things. I listen to people and just think about what they say. You can talk to me.”
I wrote down every word And remembered that day. Years later all grown you were, with a strong open heart drove me down that same street, singing these words back to me. “Don’t you worry bout a thing, pretty Mama, ‘Cos I’ll be standing by your side …” As you drove us both there, to that hospital world, the transplant could kill you, we knew. But you smiling, still singing, knowing near dying, and yes far stronger than me.
As our plane lifted off and away to Brazil, last hope for a cure, we knew. As we flew into Rio, still smiling at me, Latino music, you dancer, you winked at me. My best friend, my baby, my beautiful boy.
Far braver than me, always were.
And yet in those last days your struggling breath, your fear. I hurt with your hurt with your pain. But still you kept smiling still loving still singing still winning, you whistled whole songs.
Then turning from dancing, I felt your last breath. You were gone. I felt you my baby, that moment you died, I felt our first meeting. You me.
Same moment all over again. That moment I birthed you. Returned. So happy that moment the meeting. The birthing the dying the same. The epiphany. The privilege. The gift of seeing, of feeling, Your body your soul twice meet.'
“Meeting”
'I wanted you so you came to me my blonde baby boy, my Tamzin. I made you from inside myself and with my young body, felt every moment of your growing. And you were early, just like always.
Born at home so easy, and so fast. Reached out my arms, my hands wanting, slid my fingers into your tiny armpits, and lifted you up to my heart. I lay you down upon my skin, and stroked your slippery back so warm from my body, my lovely baby. A boy all covered with butter.
Devoted I was, watching you grow, obsessed with you, my baby. Like any mother feeling every breath, catching every memory, sleeping waking moving still. I tried to capture all your ways, recording all your looks, all your songs, your special words - every treasure written. All your dreaming, dancing running fast ahead.
But when walking one day down a cold city street, I remember with shame I complained, I felt sad and alone. Tiny boy you were then, yet far stronger than me. For you held my young hand in your comforting way, all knowing at only four. “You shouldn’t get lonely, you’ve got me. I’m your friend. I’m not lonely ‘cos I’ve got you. I’m a person too and I think things. I think about lots of things. I listen to people and just think about what they say. You can talk to me.”
I wrote down every word And remembered that day. Years later all grown you were, with a strong open heart drove me down that same street, singing these words back to me. “Don’t you worry bout a thing, pretty Mama, ‘Cos I’ll be standing by your side …” As you drove us both there, to that hospital world, the transplant could kill you, we knew. But you smiling, still singing, knowing near dying, and yes far stronger than me.
As our plane lifted off and away to Brazil, last hope for a cure, we knew. As we flew into Rio, still smiling at me, Latino music, you dancer, you winked at me. My best friend, my baby, my beautiful boy.
Far braver than me, always were.
And yet in those last days your struggling breath, your fear. I hurt with your hurt with your pain. But still you kept smiling still loving still singing still winning, you whistled whole songs.
Then turning from dancing, I felt your last breath. You were gone. I felt you my baby, that moment you died, I felt our first meeting. You me.
Same moment all over again. That moment I birthed you. Returned. So happy that moment the meeting. The birthing the dying the same. The epiphany. The privilege. The gift of seeing, of feeling, Your body your soul twice meet.'
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