Turn and Turn Again
I feel life's first turn within, like a heartbeat in the wrong place. Baby flutters in womb. And I think I understand something of love.
This heartbeat gathers force, grows, some nights kicks me in the ribs. I smile and touch what I imagine to be an elbow, heel. Before I know it, months pass; she comes, a warm bundle and I wonder, "How could they let me take her home? Don't they realize I'm not wise, not strong?"
Still, she is mine. I hold her close. Suckling bleeds me, cracks skin. I cry. Say, "I can't do it anymore." But I do, somehow, day by day.
These days stretch into months, then years, and it always comes 'round again. Pain, pleasure, thinking I know something of love, wondering who thought I could ever be wise or strong enough to love these babies, girls, young ladies...
The years unroll. Light, dark, confusion, understanding. A gathering of annunciations.
I'm supposing Mary, with her sweet Jesus, felt the same.
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Roses 'n Pitcher photo, by L.L. Barkat.