Birthing the sacred woman
See how she's grown
From empty-vesselled innocent
To full-bellied, tired and spent
What fire awaits her body's glow
To push bone against bone in that slow
Transition from woman to mother
Embodiment of power no other
Will love laboriously into being
A small, sacred body fleeing
Red-wombed house of mirth
To milk, mother, Earth.
2 comments:
Thanks Kris, glad you visited.
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