Ode to Medela

My girlfriend reminded me of this … I wrote it as a joke a few years ago, to “The Sounds of Silence.” (With a minor edit to the ending of the original.)

“Hello Medela, my old friend…
I’ve come to sit with you again
Because the milk slowly seeping
Stained my shirt while I was sleeping
And the hope that was planted in my brain
Still remains
Within the sounds of pumping

In restless nights, I nursed the babe
And hoped for sleep that never came
‘Neath the halo of a Pooh nightlight,
I turned the swing to rock on high
When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of baby cry
That split the night
Within the sounds of newborns

And in the naked light I saw
A pound of spit-up, maybe more
Babies puke without speaking
Husbands sleep without listening
Mama’s silent tirades that voices never share
And no one dared
Disturb the sound of sleeping

“Husband,” said I, “You do not know,
I’m going to kick your ass tomorrow.
I pumped a bottle late last night
YOU watch the baby until morning light.”
But my words, like silent raindrops fell
And echoed
In the wells of silence

And the mama bowed and prayed,
To the new baby they had made.

He cried out his baby warning.

That some hunger was forming.

And the mama said, “The love in my heart is written on the nursery walls, and quiet footfalls. And whispered in the sounds, of silence.”

My apologies to Paul and Art for mucking up their song.


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