That sweet lullaby,

My first single, my first album, my first concert

Emanating from my mother’s chest to the drums of my ear held against her breast

A little head floating up and down with her every breath after breath

Amidst the weary grating of her aching bones,

Against a larynx of desperation,

And a mind occupied by toils and loans.

That sweet lullaby,

Singing to my little mind

Blank and ripe for love,

Like Rome and Romeo or Juliet beneath the Parisian lights

Like sunlight, no, starlight unravelled beneath

The clouds of midsummer nights

Of transcendence, of beauty and awe for a universe of life.

That sweet lullaby,

A faint rhythm, a little heart beat, a quiet pulse

Nurtured by the sweet sounds of a bumbling joy,

In love and appreciation of my life

A once embryo turned little thing with flabby arms am I,

Like a caterpillar turned butterfly that’s still learning to fly

One so innocent, so divine, so vulnerable,

It needed to be cocooned in the melody of a mother’s pride.

That sweet lullaby,

A song, a shanty, a dance of love and life

Of passion turned living thing

Of love turned tangible and real,

Am I

Its sound melodious and comforting,

Like a party on the moon at midnight

By invitation only, special and all novel

Where the guests read the dreams of the humans below,

And where children set fires to melt all the cheese into snow.

That sweet lullaby,

A chant, a cry, a tribal tune

Against my eardrums rattles the sound of June

Of summers cold, now winters warmed,

Beneath the fever of her maternal moon

Against wars and famines and colds and strangers

Sung, defiant, with a vigour to defend,

Like the drums of conflict, echoing from warring tribal chambers

That sweet lullaby,

Protective, all seeing, all knowing, all feeling

Accepting, willing, even planning at a moment’s notice, to sacrifice

Dreams, passions, life and all,

For a second more, another little breath, another faint heart–

beat. A life for a little life, cocooned in my mother’s arms

Blessed by a melody so sweet,

Bees would lick it off the bark of trees.

Note: Inspired by my mother, who immigrated to Australia in 2007 to provide a better life for her family.