by Deana Culberson Johnson
You didn’t carry him
Heavy, protruding middle
The wait and weight between creation and life.
So how can you understand?
As he drifts farther away from me,
He achieves the goal of becoming a man.
You didn’t feel his heartbeat joining with yours or sing to him before he was born.
You didn’t hide him like a secret
Afraid even to breathe
Witness of a miracle
That mothers are destined to receive.
In my womb, he was knit together, God forming his substance and
Authoring his life’s chapters.
You were on the outside,
But my body was the sustaining link
As I waited to feel him move
Brief flutters of butterfly wings.
Then, I felt pain
Ebbing and flowing until the first cry
But today an ache that persists.
In the beginning, he was mine to hold.
Now, he fades into the distance
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