When I slip back to understated time, the clock on the table chimes 12 times. Umbilical child, fetal, pink, cherub, life of human form. A Greek hero, centuries in the making. Armour clad, brown, red, of the Earth. Spear and shield in hand, sandled feet. Soldier of Sparta. Ancestral, the seed is planted in mother's womb. For a split second there is awareness of form. Synapses fire, liquid, uterine, love, protection. A Greek child who swore to uphold our laws, while still in mother's womb. Hunger and you will be provided for little one. When you step, you shall succeed. Do not cry. Mother will protect you. Mother was born too. We were all infants, crying in bouts of self will. Dreaming of turkey dinners on future Thanksgivings. The spirit moves within you. Press on little sparrow. Suck your infant thumb, tiny fingers grasping at a plastic rattle. Teething. Share with us your infant understanding and joy. We may journey in your mind, while you sleep and dream of worlds unknown. Mother's milk is warm and good. Spit up and mother will clean you. Shit and mother will change you. A totem of fertility. A current of wisdom, crimson, evangeline, wake.
