December 18, 2008
As gentle eve approaches,
The silence of the cool night
Is broken
By a hot sweat.
By a groan of travail,
Of burning, swelling eagerness.
The pain goes and comes again
Like the surges
Of an ocean’s tide.
Reaching, clutching
Grasping in desperation
For that warm, strong hand,
The still, calm strength
Tenderly soothing the sharp edge
Of pain.
And then,
Just as flares of sunlight paint the early sky,
A soft and growing wail
Pierces the air.
A quiet sigh of relief,
Waiting, waiting.
And now,
A mother holds her child.
A father cries with joy.
Soft, delicate skin,
Like a flower’s roseate petal.
The pain, the agony,
All forgotten.
And as morn dawns,
The sunrise of a new life begins.

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