Birthing yourself as a mother
Is unfolding into sweet pain
You hurt so they won’t oh please so they won’t
The sharp throbbing ache of staying awake long past
Exhaustion
Long past needing
Bursting through the midnights into dawns a little too bright and orange and smelling of hyacinths
Where physical endurance is no longer relevant
Because enduring is something you actively did
Or held your breath until it subsided
But in this new world there’s just continued breathing
And tired joyful hungry still thirsty worried scared happy protective bored antsy too bright too busy too dark itchy ouchy too loud too silent too too too and not enough can stab you and slice you and wound you but can’t touch the core of you and you’ll continue to exist like it’s a superpower
You’re reduced to a puddle of bubbling lava
And rebuilt slowly, agonizingly
Over the course of a year
Into a gasping forested mountain so alive
That constantly leaks
Love
Compassion
Tears
Milk
I’m so often scared of the syrupy sting of the leaking
And yet
It tempers the burning
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