Doctors prodding finger upon your head made you rumble in the deep container

The spotlight beaming through the seance space of the delivery room is like a light at the end of tunnel

Come to the light! We say.

Your face emerged all

At once

One

Second

Tufts of dark hair

The next All of a face

Thunderstruck in frozen pressurized passivity of birth.

Turning to tears of agony anew

Eyes finding what hands now mean

And Mother was and is again

Every novel sound of every kind brings bewilderment, and searching onto the eyes

But if you are skin to skin with Mother, it is alright.

Skin tinted blue, and bottom lip thrust out shivering in the cold, you still manage to smile back at the faces smiling at you. A mixture of the old meeting the fleeting new.

At the end of the night, it is okay to just sleep with Mothers nipple in your mouth.