On the Eve of My Birth

A poem.

Photo by Kalea Jerielle on Unsplash

She lay alone anticipating

the bittersweet release

that morning would bring

Her first and finest creation

Her first and deepest connection

would leave her for adoption.

How deeply did she dig

as each contraction forced her open,

and vulnerable, and then empty?

Let me hold her, see her,

kiss her wet head

damp with my birthing pains…

(I can only imagine her words)

Let me look into her eyes

for the first and last time, sorry

(did she ask for forgiveness?)

The pain of pushing forgotten

with this infinite longing

to keep, protect, stay, nurture

Love, then let go