BRACKEN BED, Poetry by Frances Sheehan

Genre: Life

by Frances Sheehan

Welcome flicker flashes across my brow
Of young memory still fresh-
Shattered not by time nor lost in
Many days of other incidence, and
It will stay forever imprinted on my mind
Cherished, and jealously sought when
Melancholy lifts its slumbering head.
Of what do I speak?
Is it beauteous maid or handsome youth
Frivolous in Spring garden?
Nay, but cousin of they;
Precious child birthed from my love
When morning was early…..
Bracken Bed for straining mother,
Rolled blanket for her head,
Child greedy for Life as the sun
Lazily rose to kiss the sleeping world and
Grove where she lay hid in shadow.

She did not cry or scream out
For want of missing Nature’s greeting to mighty Sol,
Her laboured breath controlled
With sane reasoning and acceptance.
Yet her eyes looking into mine
Revealed emotion ancient old
And small hands clutching modern sleeve
Wrestled with eternal knowledge of
Pain and Love!
The world heeded the timeless ritual and payed
Magpies carolled, robins sang
And the sun burst forth in glorious gold
Hallowing the grove as the command to
Awake! Awake with new life
Echoed through the trees.

And my love found greater
Strength and courage as with
Final massive heave
Boy child spattered onto his
Natural bed
His tiny voice-cry in harmony with
The callers of the wild:
Heartbeat strong and solid.
And I rejoiced!
Here was sweet reward of Life,
Innocent truth of existence.
And mother and I smiled
Whilst new life gurgled against her breast…..
For had we not fought and won the greatest battle….
Birth! The slayer of Death!

    * * * * *

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