Selkie: A Poem About Motherhood

Past the wolves, and goblins too,

The seals fatten in the sun,

Transforming from solid to liquid

As they dive through swirls of seaweed.

There our selkie swims free.

Ebb. Flow. Crash.
Want. Need. Love.

When the moon is full, she rescues a fisherman,

Longing for fire and family,

Wanting more,

Not knowing it might feel like less.

Ebb. Flow. Crash.
Want. Need. Love.

She slips off her pelt and slides into bed,

Dizzy with comfort,

Then a salty, fevered kiss.

Ache. Pull. Push.

A child is born.

She happily drowns in milk, skin, and precious attention.

Time drapes the selkie’s memory until her pelt is forgotten

And all she knows is…

Ebb. Flow. Crash.
Want. Need. Love.

She is cast about, not by the sea,

But by the feeling she’s lost the one thing that was truly hers.

One day baby teeth are tossed and tumbled in a game.

Her daughter discovers a pelt tucked under the bed.

It’s warmer, softer, more lovely than anything on land.

“Mama, put it on!” she begs.

Ebb. Flow. Crash.
Want. Need. Love.

There’s the familiar scent of seal magic.

An elbow here. A shoulder there.

But the pelt doesn’t weave its way into her cells, as it did long ago.

Too much has happened.

Too much has changed.

She wraps the pelt around her like a robe.

Ebb. Flow. Crash.
Want. Need. Love.

Now our selkie looks the same but feels different.

She dives deeper,

Swims farther,

Holds her breath longer,

Laughs longer,

Prays harder,

Loves wilder.

Ebb. Flow. Crash.
Want. Need. Love.

Animal. Woman. Selkie.
Mother. Daughter. Whole.

Featured in the MER Literary folio on motherhood and fairytales, this poem reimagines the traditional selkie story to reflect my own experience.