This New Labor
I know there is pain
in the birthing process--
that tiny, infant cry
then the mother’s
well-earned sigh;
as the butterfly,
restricted no more
to a life of crawling
comes forth from
his cocoon
(a necessary tomb)
as I contemplate
my aged form--
travel the blue path
of veins, recalling
their history…
my thin, easily bruised
flesh adds to the wonder:
where will I emerge
and how
when this new labor
has passed?
Copyright © Joe Dimino | Year Posted 2019
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