In the beginning there was trauma.
My mother’s cry, my lungs burn.
My head breached and my blood courses,
On its own, alone for the first very time.
The first day begins cold and harsh.
Separated from comfort, evicted and exposed.

Quickly our first blur comes close
Touches our face and kisses our brow
Tender exhaustion and hard earned joy filled exhales reassure our ears
Time slows and cries yield to rest
United freshly in familiar arms now held
We give way to sleep in our mothers hopeful arms.

Written: Jan 11, 2019
Revised Last: Nov 30, 2019