First Born
Nov 3 · 1 min read
New moon brings a new mom as she bores her first daughter. A hard labor, sweat and blood drenched, the smell of life reeks through the room. It’s humid and smells of iron and rubber gloves.
The hospital frock sticks to her frail tired body and the nurse shoves a tiny bundle into her arms. She can’t see her. Hidden beneath a shock of black hair, a squirmy piece of her own body is life, love and time manifested. She has my hair, matted and wet, covering a red sticky body.
Red and black ball of warmth gulps the new world around her. A sharp contrast from the silent womb. Blurry hands…

