"A Field of Flowers"

 The seed   
planted deep into the warm womb   
protected by shell and earth     
softens under ground   
as skies weep and weep   
it feeds upon itself   
planted deep into the warm womb   
protected by shell and earth     
softens under ground   
as skies weep and weep   
it feeds upon itself   
drawing upon stored energy   
until a fragile spout forms   
roots, like fairy hair, seek purchase   
security   
they hold tightly to the nurturing mother   
confident of her care   
the shoot breaks into sunshine   
unfolds tender leaves   
trusting in the gentleness of spring   
when killing frosts   
die   
sheltered from whips of wind   
buds bloom  
into the glorious promise of life   
sprinkled with morning dew   
blossoming with hope   
for a field of flowers   

Copyright 2011 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

"Mother's Clone"

cradled gently in her arms     

Mother bends her head close to Child     

her finger feathers the pure smooth cheek     

her hair becomes a sheltering shield     

protecting them from prying eyes     

in syncopation Mother and Child breathe     

one without the womb     

Mother’s eyes mist as Child’s hair darkens     

her mouth becomes a rigid line    

when bluish eyes turn brown     

her voice takes on ice     

when others note differences   

in syncopation Mother and Child breathe     

one without the womb     

Mother’s heart hardens     

her Child wields her wayward will     

with terrible temper tantrums      

fists and teeth and legs fighting     

struggling against Mother’s programming     

in syncopation Mother and Child breathe     

one without the womb     

desperation drives Mother’s dissatisfaction     

she tethers Child with demands     

her fears feed phobias and fictional afflictions     

her disappointment distorts her love     

her rejection rips through Child     

in syncopation Mother and Child breathe     

one without the womb   

Mother and Child stab and wound     

pushing and pulling in tangled bindings     

never severing the umbilical cord     

they dance in macabre madness     

enmeshed and ensnared within their love-hate trap     

in syncopation Mother and Child breathe     

one without the womb   

Copyright 2011 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman