Saturday, April 4, 2015

Breaking The Water

The waters that released you
From my body
Into this world
Had to be broken by a third party
None of us knew how
To make it happen naturally.
To begin your beginning
We had to bring in professionals
And with a stern snap
They punctured the protective membrane
That kept you suspended inside of me.
My insides, it seems,
Required outside intervention
To begin the process
Of pushing  
You out.

Yet once it began,
Your progress was linear:
To join the world,
You had to leave my womb.
There were waves of pain,
Cresting tides
Of trembling and nausea
But then
You went from being unborn
To being born,
From my womb,
To my arms.

But your second release
Seems trickier.
I have even less control
Over the waters that govern this process.
They swirl around our ankles
And shift the ground
Beneath our feet
And make me nostalgic
For the one-way itinerary
Of birthing,

How I wish now
For some outside professional
To puncture the barriers
Of dependence definitively
And release you into
A break in parental waters
Resulting in your absolute autonomy.
And my role, as in the beginning,
Would be to be the only canal you need,
Rather than the occasional obstacle,
The intermittent interruption
That in your eyes
I so often seem
To be.

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