Origins

                     cocoparisienne                 

Origins

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 

The Sunday Whirl