by Focus
© 2002 Focus, all rights reserved
Childbirth
Something every birth mother recalls
With a grimmace.
Like a torn paper,
Crumpled and trashed,
Waves of pain
Twist your body.
And rip out your sense of
Control.
That baby is coming
Unstoppably
Freight train on a long track -
While the mother
Feels like the track
Shuddering beneath metal wheels,
Feels like the engine, straining.
She wants to wail
A train whistle
Of fear and desperation.
But when the child is born
The sun shines.
Leaves blow in the breeze
Mother wipes sweat from her brow
And cradles joy.