I grew him from a seed

fed and watered by my blood, my body

280 Days

under a blood moon

my moon shaped body, full of life, opened and then closed

he emerged from my womb, cradled in warm waters, marked at his navel

and powerless.

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I grew him from a babe

fed and watered by my breasts, my milk

668 Days

under a waning moon

my moon shaped breasts, full of life, opened and then closed

he emerged from my chest

fully nourished from milk and ready for meat

marked with long legs, and round cheeks

and powerful.

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I grew him from a toddler

fed and watered by my hands, my words

851 Days

under a new moon

my moon shaped arms, full of life, opened and then closed

he emerged from my constant hold

clothed in soft cottons and rubber shoes

marked with his own words, his own direction

and powerful.

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I’ll grow him from a child, from a teenager, from a man

Fed and watered by my body, my wisdom

21,960 Days

Under a full moon, my moon shaped eyes, full of life, will open and then close

I will emerge from this earth’s garden

wrapped in wisdom from all that I grew

marked with stretched body and heart

and powerful.

Melissa Johnston

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This poem is about my relationship to my youngest child Jack (4), as well as my four other children. He was born at 40 weeks on the dot, under a blood moon.

Photo credit: Glen Shneider