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By Tara Stadnyk
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From the Author:
Thank you for reading my poetry collection, The Cædmon Poems, which speak to one of the most taboo subjects out there - pregnancy loss.
After losing my son, Cædmon, in an early delivery 5 months into the pregnancy, I learned that many people simply do not have the language for communicating or hearing these stories, so I turned to poetry to heal myself and share with others.
I dedicate this collection to Dallas, my loving partner and forever father to our son.
Cadences of Cædmon
Resounding over water
This bridge between
Belly and bathtub
Wet womb throbs
Contract, contract, contract
Cries from cavernous waters
Impossible pain
And yet, my only reality
The pain women
Always told you about
My child will die today
I am birthing death
So I call to him
From across the centuries
In whale song
My cave breath echoes
Over waters of women
Milk blood mothers
Who arrive together
In wet, primitive earth
Who birth pure spirit
From darkness
From within her vessel
Through birth canal
To open sea
This whale song will be
His funeral song
His perfect body in mine
I hold him there
One last time
Sing him to sleep
The last lullaby
a woman shrouded
by wisdom, life’s
true suffering
faith loses meaning
when babies die
mothers go mad
bodies do not know
why they cannot
feed, cradle, love
one path ends in the
womb wilderness
we are marooned
we cry tears until
nothing is left
raw vacancy
we fashion sheer shrouds
we float away
we estrange with
our new family
centuries of mothers
whose babies died
in their arms
Like an animal
A servant to Nature
My breasts fill and swell
Even after you are gone
There is nothing I can do
But bind them with farm cabbage
Hope the milk does not come
Please milk, do not come
I can’t look in the mirror anymore
My body, unrecognizable
A state of shock:
My breasts tripled in size
My belly empty without you
A physical response
Governed by Nature
Primordial cruelty
I am a helpless animal
I am a milk cow
Searching for her babe
Sad, swollen, in pain
the fatigue sets in
tired of being at work
tired of being someone
tired of lifting my eyes
responding,
i want to crawl underground
to darkness, dead silence
my bones cradled
by the earth
becoming nothing
I sit here
answering questions
forcing smiles
my pain is masked, buried
but just beneath the surface
they do not ask me
about my son, Cædmon
I live in another world
far from theirs
dirty and desolate
blood-stained
blood-soaked
I try to participate
in the world I once knew
the world with the
younger, happier Tara
the one who hoped
but nobody sees me
nobody sees my pain
nobody knows me
knows what’s inside
they only see
Tara
with no baby
I am guarding myself
This fortress of tears
No one may enter my
Foggy bygone harbour
Battered and scattered by trauma
I reside inside my castle
Waves of grief crash against rock
Reality, hard as stone
I try to love myself again
Love my empty belly
Flabby from birth
Breasts that swelled and milked
For my infant ghost
Now reduce
I reduce
I shrink
I slip away
Listen, sounds of bells
And a mother’s moan
Reality, hard as stone
I have been spending a lot of time
In bed, medical leave
Leave me alone, I’m healing
Buried and bundled
Blanket upon blanket
I am safe here
It is warm and full of dreams
CBD & THC join me
Lull me to sleep
The world outside spins
Madness in the streets
But I am warm and safe here
Underneath the sheets
why struggle for words
when screams are inside
cries, sobs, moans, wails
sound matching sorrow
our wordless voices
fill that terrible vacancy
voices of the body
not of the mind
how does pain sound?
like the wind
like a storm
obliterating reality
crashing, crushing
sadness
followed by moments
of calm
then another storm builds
on the horizon
swallowing us
redefining us
landscapes changed
forever
and so,
we rebuild
In these last months
I have aged years
Become someone else
My shadow grows, thickens
Casting darkness
A hollowed gloom
The person I once created
Identity, Self, the “I”
Gone
She died when her babe died
And all that remains
Is living memory
Of death
Our saint, our son,
Our time traveller; threads
Of past, present, future
Divine starry tapestry
Woven by destiny
Receiver and messenger
Of dreams; conduit
Of spirit, father, son
Whispering verses never heard
“Cædmon’s Hymn”, holy word
Whitby, England. February 11th
A merry medieval feast
Where wine flows like red rivers
Voices join in songs of Saint Cædmon
All around, music and celebration
February 11th
The day we expected you
To join our little family
A memory carved into stone
Saint Mary’s garden, home
In shadows
We light candles for you
Your father and I
We carry your hymn with us
Now and always
The drumming of your heart
Echoes in my belly
Long after you are gone
We are made of you
And you, of us
Let us sing together
In Cædmon’s dream
With love in our hearts
Birthing words and music
That live on in you
Be your own light
To, within, and through
The darkest night
Know your own pain
Intimately, then
Feel it again
For the tears now
Will purify you
A sacred vow
Becoming more
Of you, the real you
More than before
artwork: alma thomas (cover); helen frankenthaler
Tara Stadnyk is a musician, writer, and performing artist grown in the Saskatchewan prairies, now residing on Snuneymuxw territory. Tara sings in medieval languages with Vancouver Island duo, Cædmon’s Dream. She holds a BA Honours in English (2017) and a MA in English (2018) from the University of Saskatchewan where she specialized in women’s erotic art and literature, feminism, and sexuality. She is currently working towards publishing a book of poetry.
