Archive for September, 2008
MEDITATION AS BATH TIME
Posted 09.8.08 by annajohnson
I have seen him poop in the bath. Twice. I have seen him fall and smash his soft arms. I have mopped the floor like a servant for an emperor. Yet every night I love the bath. Water softens the edges of the day. Sometimes I jump in. But only if invited. I found this lovely poem by Pablo Neruda, a poet who went wandering inside the heart chambers of living women if ever a man could. A good friend of mine has just returned from Chile where he made a documentary about Neruda. I cannot wait to see the beauty of this and share it on this blog. But in the meantime, roll up your sleeves sweet mothers and fall in love again. The bath is drawn, the curtain is half open, toys float…
Till next time, KEEPING IT YUMMY.
XXX ANNA
TO WASH A CHILD
by Pablo Neruda
Only the most ancient love on earth
will wash and comb the statue of the children,
straighten the feet and knees.
The water rises, the soap slithers,
and the pure body comes up to breathe
the air of flowers and motherhood.
Oh, the sharp watchfulness,
the sweet deception,
the lukewarm struggle!
Now the hair is a tangled
pelt criscrossed by charcoal,
by sawdust and oil,
soot, wiring, crabs,
until love, in its patience,
sets up buckets and sponges,
combs and towels,
and, out of scrubbing and combing, amber,
primal scrupulousness, jasmines,
has emerged the child, newer still,
running from the mother’s arms
to clamber again on its cyclone,
go looking for mud, oil, urine and ink,
hurt itself, roll about on the stones.
Thurs, newly washed, the child springs into life,
for later, it will have time for nothing more
than keeping clean, but with the life lacking.