Reincarnations

“When I come back in another life can it be
as child, not as mother?”
from “Arguments with destiny: 15” by Luisa A. Igloria

The space between life and death
and life again is so bright,
shivering with eloquent vowels,
songs that hover out of range
of our hearing, the braided
textures of bounding bounded
light.

Conversations there don’t fit
into our words, minds, bodies,
or so my tiny daughter
assures me. She remembers.
She says not to worry; smiles.
What’s most important never
dies.

Her eyes streak with color like
a slow small explosion, leafed
and layered, interlaced
fibers twining together
as inverted galaxies,
first hinted at in Doptone
dust.

Around her small shape gather
half-forgotten words from stars
and planets, floating featherlike.
The cosmic conversations
she describes form a kind of
invisible aura of
points,

dissolving memories not
permitted, treasured echoes.
In her, the words of God melt down
into an ingot of flesh
and vision. I believe her.
I can almost see the shimmer,
heat

radiating from her birth.
I can hardly wait. But, “No!”
she says sharply. “Wait! Next time
it’s my turn to be the mommy.
You have to promise to wait
for me!” We stare. I recall
blue

veins chained and knotted and twined
together across my chest,
as my heart stretched and grew great
to hold her, this alien
angel, this eternal ache.
I can’t argue about this. I
promise.


Based on a true incident. My daughter was three years old, and persuaded me that reincarnation is a real thing. That’s why, when I read those lines of Luisa’s, my reaction was, “I KNOW THIS STORY!” and I had to write it up as a poem immediately. I’ve told the story in prose many times. It’s one of the great mysteries and jewels of my life.

Posted in ,
PF Anderson has been reading, writing, and loving poems since grade school. The book she has owned the longest was a book of children's poems given to her by her father as she was learning to read, and her multiple bookcases of poetry testify to her devotion to the art. Back in the days when there was only one tenured woman faculty member in poetry in the entire United States, PF turned down a fellowship in creative writing in order to go to library school, primarily because she was a single parent and needed a decent way to make a living. Life as a woman poet, at that point in time, was not the way to accomplish that goal. Since then, she has struggled to combine her various librarian positions with her love of poetry. Currently, PF is the Emerging Technologies Informationist for the Health Sciences at the University of Michigan. Her recent poetry primarily resides at Rosefire Rising.

7 Comments


  1. Patricia. Your poem seared me. Gave me goose bumps. Reminded me too of looking into the eyes of my girls when they were very young and feeling like I was looking into deep space… I remember thinking “where are you from?” <3 thank you.

    Reply

    1. Luisa, as you can tell, reading YOUR poem gave me a zing, also! I am such a huge fan of yours, it is a great honor for me to be able to share a piece that is connected to one of yours in a space which you inhabit so frequently. Thank you to you and Dave for making me welcome in your “home.” :)

      Reply

  2. Lovely, Patricia! Thank you!

    Reply

Leave a Reply