She is like me
Staring off into the distance
Yet standing still
To hold the fullness of the present
The sun of man shines in her eyes
Though it might also be
That she shines in his
Pregnancy confronts care.
It flutters, kicks, and moves with urgent insistence to announce need before it can be articulated.
A hunger grows within, eating our bodies, hearts and thoughts with the preeminence of royalty in expectation of nurturing. The desire to bring forth life isn’t limited to the obvious fullness of a woman’s womb, any more than the desire to bring forth death can be assumed by its seeming emptiness.
Each of us is carrying the fragility of new beginnings, and the dawn of a new day is no less important to nurture than a newborn in our arms.
Setting horizons have been drawn in forgiving lines that in both rest and anxiety are found erased. We are the nurturer and the nurtured, but together we are one.