BORN

I was wearing a dirty T-shirt

And work boots

Waiting for you

To come join us in this world

When the nurses gathered

All concerned together

Like wise witches

Or sorceresses

Invoking magic words

 

CODE 3

 

In a sudden storm

Of paper gowns

And haunting

Squeaking and squealing

Of the gurney wheels

And monitoring equipment

With all the arcane

Beeping and whistling

Heralding

The arrival

Of the new born child

 

I held your Mother’s hand

In my hand

I cradled her head against mine

As the Doctor

Mysterious shaman

Wrapped in a robes of blue

Cut her belly open

 

You were stuck fast

In the Canal of Life

 

You were born

Covered in blood and bruises

With a black eye

And a full head of hair

 

Your hands balled up into fists

Your feet kicking a storm

Your lungs filled with air

For the first time

Your mouth wide

You announced yourself arrived

 

I cut the cord

The physical anchor

To the Well of Souls

 

I sang to you

As I brought you

To your Mother

 

My tears fell freely

Onto you

Washing along your face

 

I have never cried like that before

I don’t think I ever will again

I doubt I will ever see anything

So beautiful again

 

©workingclassproduction.com, 2016

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