During the final weeks of her pregnancy,
Serena came to fully understand her womanhood.
To a woman’s heart, the birth
of a firstborn child was to be cherished
forever, yet in that moment her emotions trembled.
Her back arched, like a bow. An arrow inside her womb
the life-giving soul of her body grew quiet, arched outward,
making way. The midwife held her hands to comfort her
as she awaited the first cut of the cesarian into her flesh.
Serena winced. “Picture something beautiful,”
said the midwife. She’d dream of her newborn
child. “It was hers,” she thought entirely, hers
for every coming sunrise of her life. “Breathe,”
the midwife said. As the surgeon reached in with
both hands. The arrow then decline to be released
withdrawing deeper in its once watery cocoon
escaping the cold gloved grasp of his fingers
till suddenly, into freedom’s light, he burst.
“A son,” said the midwife, swaddling the premature
baby in a warm blanket. “A son,” thought Serena.
Her husband sitting happily smiled, “My Son.”
But Serena felt a surgeon reach inside her. The arrow
now removed. The midwife held the boy above her
briefly, and Serena saw his precious tiny eyes, starring back.
The first time the baby took her nipple. “Son,” she whispered,
as his tiny hands pressed her breast, and the milk released.
“Son,” she whispered, “I am your Mother.”
Son, she whispered, there will be bath times,
play times, bedtime stories, lots of hugs and kisses.
Son, “I will love you forever, my baby you'll be”,
she thought I will cherish you. I will be your hero
your help and your guide. I will teach you all about life.
I will name you Hsiiaa. the wisdom of tomorrow.
© Eugene Harvey
Copyright © Eugene Harvey | Year Posted 2017