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Twelve returns of the day
It was coming
Whether I like it or not
The pain seering
Through my entire being
My hands gripping
The side rails of the bed
Then more, ravaging
Could I stand it any longer?
No! Too tearing
No longer coherent
I am blowing
Up into a thousand pieces
Across the universe, no returning
Dying...And there it was
Hands pulling
The new life out, placed in my arms
A perfect being
My son, Matthew!
Joy sublime, pain forgotten.
Happy 12th Birthday, Matthew!
By CarolineCecile - 02.15.12
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