July 20, 2013


Like a wellspring you beckon me closer
with the tinkling chime of your birthing song.
And without apology your persistent beseeching,
as through my mouth and my eyes,
my hand and my heart you express,
my womb the surrogate for your song.
You use me as your instrument,
as I become like unto nothing
in the wake of the humble force of your creation.
And always you leave me changed,
as though it were me you were birthing after all.
And I am left grasping at the meaning
you have left behind in me,
instilling truth in the aftermath of your unforgiving passing,
my womb aquiver with the ripples of the after birth,
beckoning me closer to the beyond,
and fiercely, lovingly retrieving my wholeness
from the womb of the within.

Lucy Pierce © 2013

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