Unbroken Circle

A poem for my Mamacita

Good Morning, and happy Saturday. I just wanted to hop on here and share a couple of fun things with you paid subscribers. But, first I want to thank you all so much for your support and kindness. I will post a giving update on the elephants, rhinos, and hippos y’all have helped me foster soon. I am waiting for my keeper’s notes from the SWT to share the latest info on our babies. We are up to ten orphans again, plus we are now giving monthly to both The Sheldrick Wildlife Trust and The Jane Goodall Institute. Yay. To show my appreciation, I bring you a poem for my mother, because I needed to write that out. This is brand new work, still raw, but cathartic to write. And also, a little sneak peak at the awesome studio promo shots my dear friend and very talented photographer, Anna Soete, took of me. I’m stoked to be working with a small but wonderful marketing team through Monica Hoffman’s Marketing who requested I get some professional shots done. I am so excited to start rolling out changes over at Animanity.com once they have finished upgrading and streamlining everything. Yay. The times, they are a changing.

Unbroken Circle

Then:

Tiny hands like porcelain
the color of fine blush china curl.
Fist pumps, face growing hot,
her cries becoming stronger,
louder with each 
howl. 

One tiny fist latches on
to a long digit with maroon
on the tip. A hand envelopes
the fist, cocooning it in
kindness.

She is lifted up,
cradled close to a slow-moving,
warm breast that soothes all her fears,
quiets her discomforts. Rise and fall,
rise and fall, steady and sure, 
safety in each 
breath.

Now:

Porcelain hands, pale and thin,
are lined with delicate veins that show
through my ever-thinning skin.
The blood within them slow,
sedate. 

A voice speaks softly
arousing me from slumber.
I know that voice, better
than I know my own. My mouth 
moves to form words. 
The only sounds I can make
through the parched moon
of my mouth
rattle. 

A maroon-tipped hand offers
sweet nirvana. Small sips
of coke from a sponge
like the coke I fed to her when
she was six years old for amoebic 
dysentery. 

Painfully reaching up, I wrap
a bony fingers to circle around a single
digit. I give her a weak squeeze,
clinging to her warmth 
a while longer, desperate for
connection. 

Pulse calming, breath slowing,
in and out, slower and slower; 
I hear, “Rest now, Mamacita.
Sleep. You are safe with me.”

The unbroken circle remains.
My fingers hold on tight 
until my world
sleeps. 
.
                     -    Amanda C. Sandos

Let me leave you with some smiles before I send you back out into the world. Thanks again for being here and for your support. Below are some of my favorite shots from the recent photo shoot we did in my new studio. See you back here Wednesday morning. Will it be leafbirds or llamas? I don’t know yet, so it will be a surprise to us all. I have both partially written. They are neck and neck to the finish line, now.

The studio staff you see pictured with me below are the infamous Charim and Cottonelle (aka Cotton) and Elliot is the pooch pal. Thanks again to Anna Soete for her spectacular photos.

See y’all here next week.