At First, My Daughter

'She is world without understanding.
She is made of sound,
She drinks me up.

We laugh when I lift her by her feet.
She is new as a petal.
Water comes out of her mouth and her little crotch.

She gives the crook of my arm
A weight of delight.
I stare in her moving mirror of untouched flesh.

Absurd, but verifiable,
These words - father, daughter -
They taste of receiving and relinquishing.

She will never again be quite so novel and lovely
Nor I so astonished.
In touch, we are celebrating.

The first and last moments
Of being together and separate
Indissolute - till we are split.

By time, and growth, and woman,
The things I made her with.


Elma Mitchell

I apologise for the gender change to 'father' & 'woman' above, but you know I had to! A beautiful piece that sums up my love for her.

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