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Sunday, May 7, 2017


a twig snapped in the slashing rain
and the mother weary with labor lifted
her head wobbling on thin stalked neck
and looked toward the sound only she
heard – the others off to side swapping
stories sitting in ash around the small fire
one blackened limb touching another their
shadows stretching up the cave wall – she
could feel the rain as though it poured clean
and cool – she could feel the rain as though
spirits of the grand mother of all walked with
clean feet and soft hands and lifted her in
this cavern of pain and indifference, washed her
body and hair free of sweat and desperation and
agony and delivered born unto her a swaddled infant –
as the rain stilled to the mist – radiates of a new dawn
showering her shoulders as she stood infant to breast
in the doorway looking out onto a ribbon of tomorrow
poised to walk …. 
she smiled 

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