There is within
a tiny tiny soul
pieces slowly coming together
to make a perfectly knit whole
and as I
the laborer
let God
the creator
to cell by cell
ensure all is well
as my heart
is racing
afraid of what I might be facing
and yet I'm not
baby Hal
is growing and pressing
making me change my dressing
to fit
this tiny one
as he/she commands more space
and I am dying
to see their sweet face
in the meantime
I feel lost
bereft
as if a part of me has been shaved off and burned
as if nothing can be earned
to save me from this slumber
as if post partem
has decided to sit upon my face
far from its acceptable place
and so with each whine
God realigns my heart
from pity
to this
to a bliss that comes from working
from doing
and moving
and loving
when all in me cries sleep
but to do so would keep
me from the same things at eight
and so I push
so I stretch
measured not in pounds but in prayers
as I search for the one who is always there
trying to find His face
hoping His place
is with the one we love
and as we look to above I feel His peace
I feel such hope
and yet
the other times
I miserably try to cope
on my own
cast off my throne
let it alone
and trust the Everlasting.
