Baby

Posted by: littlefaith

Subject tags: poetry, neglect, dream

on Jan 2, 2009 Print PDF
littlefaith

My friend entrusted me with a beautiful baby
She was a gorgeous child, and quiet, too
I brought her gurgling into a bedroom
I laid her to sleep in a wooden crib
Then I left her for the other room where a party was going on

In a daze I spent two days in the party
I didn't think I didn't notice I didn't feel
Time pass

Then I remembered
The child

I ran to the bedroom
I saw her lying in the crib
She lay in putrefying liquids from her own body
She was wrinkled and green
I was Horrified
I grabbed a water hose
I thought if I could clean her she would live again
I sprayed her from a few feet away
I knelt on the ground
I touched my forehead to the ground
Crying

I was not a good mother to myself
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69
Darkness and enlightenment
written by rsr, January 03, 2009
Your dark and disturbing poem is a stirring reminder that there is a sinister side to the way we internalize and project our personal experiences. The piece reads like a horror story told by a villainously neglectful babysitter--a parent's worst nightmare--until the last line. Only then do we seemingly learn that the baby is a metaphor for the self in an allegorical expose about an internal struggle against personal neglect.

I find the imagery beyond horrifying (but, of course, that is what makes the piece interesting from a psychological perspective) and I hope that you will share some of your thoughts about the metaphorical construct. One question I have is why does the child belong to a friend? I might be misinterpreting your meaning, but it would seem to fit better if the mother was telling the story, as the child appears to represent something intrinsic to the teller.
72
Explanation
written by littlefaith, January 03, 2009
I wrote this when I was a senior in high school. This was a vivid dream that I felt I had to share with my English teacher, who I considered a good friend. She told me that one way to interpret dreams is to think about all the people in the dream who do not have specific names or identities as your self. When we did this with my dream, we imagine that the "friend" and the "baby" were all me. Therefore, "I" entrusted "myself" to me. So I wrote this such that the reader should have the same experience that I did, coming to the conclusion after the fact.

Thomas Pynchon and Trainspotting both stole my dream, I later found out...
95
Fear of Loss
written by Soapy Dishwater, January 04, 2009
The poem needs to be interpreted within the context it was written - a time of life change for a teenager. High school is a time of scary transition and heightened emotional intensity. Passing from childhood to adulthood.

When I read this I feel fear - fear of responsibility because of what can be lost forever - your childhood? your sense of who you are? things that you cherished?

I would challenge you to "speak" to the teenager who wrote the poem and tell her how the "baby" is doing now.

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