The girl I once was,
Is gone.
The body I once had,
No more.
The understanding I once had,
Has grown.
The heart I once had,
Beats louder.
The skin I once had,
Is softer.

I am brand new,
In this old body.
When a baby is born,
So is a mother.

After the birth,
this blue I feel,
I wear it like a robe
tied around me.
its edges hang beyond
floor length
Trailing behind and around me,
Laid out for your posterity.
I touch the still moist umbilical cord
spiral it,
leave it to dry.
I want to cry when I touch it
I am becoming me again, just me.
Now there is a you and a me
I look at you little one
your perfection
Delicate fingers and toes
Pink complexion, gentle hair
I know you are a miracle,
and I cry.
Your umbilicus fell off today.
Your belly button is your own now.
I witness you unfolding into this time,
limbs filling out into every new now,
My ****** expanded for you
And now it shrinks down everyday.
My *******, a river of milk flowing
To meet your hunger,
I hold you to my heart
And I love you,
Every breath,
Every finger,
Every toe
Every look and sound you make,
Every second-- I pour forth with love for you
How will our time
Be together
Will I listen well,
Will you show me well?--
You still see
the invisible umbilicuses
tracing back through every birth to
the original Mother
To the Great Oneness
Every you, and every me
Connected to the Source
To the Breath of Life
Now---- I can see this blue I wear
As the ocean around me
And I can feel the waves
washing me, washing me, washing me.

She is calling for me,
She is calling for me,
The mother I wish I could be,
Her anger at the bar of her crib,
I should get up,
I need to get up,
She is calling me,
What day is it?
What day of the week?
I can’t remember,
I am so tired,
The cry’s,
She always cries,
Am I not good enough?
They say I have the baby blues,
Losing my mind is a funny thing,
I was so smart and ready,
I will get up,
I must get up,
Telling myself “I will try to be a better mom tomorrow”...

isn't it ironic
that a body
that was once
capable of
creating life

can also manage
to destroy it

Go to sleep, my love.
This ambulance is not for us.

Although, I suppose it could be,
following dark impulses.

Its sirens screaming of hell,
tearing pell-mell in a night

not tinged by blood –
no crime committed for want or violence,

only help arrived too late
to save us. It would go silent then,

as we have been silenced,
locked in a terrible tableau.

You, still, curled around my heart,
me having found for us oblivion.