The rhythm is all around me
Bum Boom Bum Boom Bum Boom
Red walls or red blanket or red.... what?
Can't seem to discern the relevant words
In retelling this pre-language tale.
Bum Boom Bum Boom Bum Boom
I am here -
You are here -
We are here -
All is good -
We are safe -
There is love -
There is love -
There is love -
I hear what I now know are voices.
I feel what I now know are my mother's hands,
touching my red blanket home,
caressing my red blanket home,
my red blanket home touches and
caresses me.
My thumb in my mouth takes
that caress and translates it into
comfort -
bum boom bum boom bum boom.
all is well -
all is well -
all is well -
Love is here.
Love is here -
Love is here -
Poetry lived with me
in my mother's womb.
There was never a choice
there simply was:
love love love -
prelanguage notions
of poetry translated
by crayon three years later.
My mother copied letters with love
My little self copied straight lines and curves.
Bum Boom Bum Boom Bum Boom
Poetry has been my forever companion
Never leaves me.
Never chooses anyone else.
Caresses my neck when it is tight.
Covers me with a blanket when my
feet are cold.
Bum Boom, Bum Boom, Bum Boom.....
-- Julie Jordan Scott