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Speaking of Birth

by Nathalie Sorensen

Dark soil is waiting, soft and moist.
I press seeds, keepers of sleeping life,
home to earth, and each awakens
to its inborn song. Tiny cotyledons
tightly folded in their casings, swell, burst,
thrust a shoot into air, spread open two green leaves.

Tending seedlings, I think
mouse embryos curled in a warm womb,
turtle eggs hatching under southern sands.
Spring breezes riffle my sun splashed woods,
set hepaticas’ small pink stars
twinkling across leaf littered forest floors.

In Old Chinese, a picture of a hand touching a seedling
is in the word for poetry —
words spoken at the altar of fertility —
inexhaustible effervescence.
Stillness that has no name.

Nathalie Sorensen read from her verse at KFPL’s 2018 Poetry Month Reading on April 24.

The Poetry Blackboard showcases poems curated by Kingston's Poet Laureate, Helen Humphreys, and written by Kingston poets. There's a new poem every month, written by poets living and dead, historical and contemporary, published and unpublished, adults and children, giving full range to the cultural voice of Kingston.

See all of the poems previously published on The Poetry Blackboard