In Transition
I imagine the labored breathing, the urge to push,
contractions that come harder, faster. Trembling,
hot and cold, legs shaking. The midwife
whispering, the baby is almost here.
I come to know the cut of a sterile knife
when this body did no more than obey
a silent wish to hold him close to the bone,
when he was early ready to enter the world.
Awakened from a dream to the possibility
of something simply different,
readying for the radical.
After all, everyone and everything moves on,
(Illya’s Honey)
