Tuesday Poem: "Toa Iti (Little Warrior)"

(For Thomas in celebration of his birth)

I will never forget the moment

11.38am

the obstetrician hauled you from

your mother’s womb:

one arm in defiant gesture

held stiff and strong

across your stomach

as though slotted through the strap

of an invisible shield.

The surgeon held you up for my photo,

his arms straining under 10lb 11oz

of warrior pose.

Bloodied from head to foot,

you never uttered a sound

but remained in concentrated stillness,

staring away

to some other world you had left behind

like a little warrior

who has passed through the tumult

to a place of peace.

Please forgive me a little nostalgia this week as my oldest son, celebrated in this poem, is on the verge of high school and teenage-hood and all the signs are emerging that he is transitioning from childhood to adulthood. It is hard to believe that the cute little fellow who loved tractors and diggers and who danced joyously to The Wiggles now blasts out heavy metal riffs on his guitar and says " 'sup bro".