I am curled up today,

in this darkness,

waiting to be born.

 

I am incubating myself,

both earth and seed.

Multiplying cells,

silently.

 

I am mother and child,

holding and held.

Wild fire and tenderness,

waiting.

 

Perhaps soon,

I will stretch out my limbs,

tentatively,

or kick furiously.

My heart will beat at an accelerated rate,

which might alarm you.

I will softly unfurl.

 

I will emerge –

Oh! in a gush of water and tears.

My voice will be powerful;

it will be like nothing you have ever heard.

I will open my eyes and you will know

the staggering capacity of your love.

You will know that your heart can regenerate infinitely,

know that my small being will grow to envelop you,

will dissolve your boundaries,

will disrupt your complacency,

will bring your fierceness to life,

will heal you.

 

By you, I mean myself:

I will know.

I will know when I am ready to be born.

 

Soon.