by Larissa Douglass,  https://www.lcdouglass.com/

I’m sharing two poems, Cakes from the Garden and The Name that Flies Across the Earth, which I read at the last Write Thing. These poems go together since they were written on the births of two children of a friend of mine. Cakes was written for my godson, Graham (born August 2017), and Name was for his sister Quinn (born May 2024). 

“CAKES FROM THE GARDEN”


For millennia, kings and priests have warred or prospered, but everyone’s grandmother still makes cakes to thank heaven when babies are born. Women have done this for thousands of years, regardless of culture or religion. The common language greets new life not with Latin, but with almonds.
	Recipes vary. They must go all the way back to Eve. One valley adds lemon, a hilltop town removes flour. Ground nutmeats are bound by sugar and eggs, so that a cake for a baby is like the word: ‘Amen.’
This common tongue reminds us that there was fruit before the Fall in Eden and fruit after. The most beloved fruit in the world is the mango, which means that knowledge came before and mangos came after.
‘Eden’ is a common word in all cultures which sprang from her. Follow the words around Eden, and see that they were the first words Adam used after he named the animals: “Mascara – giraffe – gazelle – safari – lemon – sherbet – alcohol – cabal – baptismal. Amen.” 
Names for foods were once prayers, derived from the universal language that existed before Babel, which every soul will understand. One such word is ‘talisman,’ a magical figure which denotes religious observances and protection during an exchange of information. Talisman comes from a time before religion and language were divided. How would that faith taste on the tongue? Like an ‘elixir,’ perhaps, of eternal life, or ‘manna’ from heaven. 

NB Cakes was published in the international literary journal, Taj Mahal Review, Vol. 22, No. 2, Dec. 2022. 

“THE NAME THAT FLIES ACROSS THE EARTH”

It starts at the entrance of the house, with a feeling left after the family passes through, carrying our new arrival. This is the space after and the space before. We wait for the baby in the bedroom upstairs to smile. Welcome her, pretty girl, who is only a week old, and already she dances across a continent. She alights in The City, to cross the cinnamon-coloured bridge, where we were Dead Set, so long ago.
Honoured, thy name flies across the earth. This is not a journey, but a step from time to time, through time, and around it. Go all the way back to the door of Eden. Remember the pure and perfect love that lit your way through the darkness, down thousands of years, running barefoot on the grass. From there to here, from then until now, the path is long. A girl can choose this way, running so far through the starry mirrors, into the sunshine, and back along the soul’s celestial thoroughfare, to follow the river of light. When you arrived as a baby, so many memories were lost. You do not remember the songs you sang in the carmen garden, in the vineyard of God.
One day, you may travel to Mount Carmel and see the truth in it. Today, they fight a war there, at the town of Haifa. They do not remember why they do. We do not remember why we do. Just like you, sweet girl, do not remember why you do. But they could, we could, you would, if you speak to the Lady of el-Tabun. Travel far and remember that perfect love, the love that heals everything.

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