A Flint Holds Fire: The Poetry of Birth

April is national poetry month, so I’d like to share some of my favorite poems that remind me of birth in that time. Some of them might be predictably about birth; some, like today’s, aren’t specifically birth centered. :)

An emerald is as green as grass;

A ruby red as blood;

   A sapphire shines as blue as heaven;

   A flint lies in the mud.

  A diamond is a brilliant stone,

  To catch the world’s desire;

  An opal holds a fiery spark;

  But a flint holds fire.

   -- Christina Rosetti

.

A birthing woman holds fire, folks. She may not feel beautiful; she will not feel the same glamor she had her wedding day. She will probably feel exhausted. She will not care at all about the world’s desire; she will be centered on the voices within. But she is so strong. She has the fiery passion of a mother’s love and strength as she gives birth, and it is so amazing to witness. “You hold fire,” is something I want to shout to all the women who give birth- (c-section or vaginally, because it’s all birth!). Bringing a baby into the world doesn’t sparkle, but it does show the burning love a mother has for her children. Here’s to women of flint the world over!