NaPoWritMo.net’s prompt for the penultimate day: “In certain versions of the classic fairytale Sleeping Beauty, various fairies or witches are invited to a princess’s christening, and bring her gifts. One fairy/witch, however, is not invited, and in revenge for the insult, lays a curse on the princess. Today, I’d like to challenge you to write a poem in which you muse on the gifts you received at birth . . . as well as a ‘curse’ you’ve lived with (your grandmother’s insistence on giving you a new and completely creepy porcelain doll for every birthday, a bad singing voice, etc.). I hope you find this to be an inspiring avenue for poetic and self-exploration.” My poem begins with the scent of marigolds as I plant my garden.
Gifts at Birth
Pungent marigold scent rises from the roots I untangle,
transports me to my mother’s garden—a blessing
I was born with, or so it seems, a love of nature,
flowers, and fingers in the dark, dank dirt.
Going back to the day of birth, I was born under the
sun sign of Capricorn and inherited the climbing
nature of a goat, the goat with a fish tail, also
took me to watery parts of the land—larger bodies
of water from the Great Lakes to the sea, and spent
childhood afternoons by a mint-filled
brook in the meadow or a clear lake in the woods.
Other gifts: a thick bunch of black, frizzy hair
and an insatiable curiosity, a need to be in the
center of things, since before I was vocal!
I climbed from the crib and toddled into the
living room with grown ups—a blessing—
love of the night!
Mercury, Mars, and Jupiter also in the sign of
Capricorn the night I was born, so I’m bound to
butt my way through obstacles and climb!
Rooted in the earth, a blessing and a curse—
I wish sometimes I could be like fire and flare up
or air and dragonfly-like flit from here to there—
enough water from my fishtailed goat to
keep me floating and all of this I was given
at birth. The need to climb the mountain,
step by step, is a blessing the fates gave me.
Sometimes when I’m tired like day twenty-nine of
the poem a day challenge, I ask myself, couldn’t
I have been born an air sign and flitted
on to the next thing?
Jacquelyn Markham 4/29/2022
Poet Voice 