Untitled

istefan

I suspected
I was pregnant
When I was two months
Into the nine months.

A life
Was being created
In me.

In less than a year
I would become
The mother of something
So fragile,
So small,
So unique,
A creation of a love
So pure.

At the eight month mark,
I had accepted
That my little one had
A spirit.

He or she liked
Mozart and Tupac,
Preferred I ate
Ice cream and cake
And passed on burritos and Chinese.

When I wanted to sleep,
He or she wanted to dance,
And not a tame waltz or foxtrot,
My little one was breakdancing
In the little space
Called my womb.

At last,
It was time for our little one
To be born into the bigger world.

After hours and hours
Of contractions,
And a great deal of
Huffing and puffing,
Screaming like a mad woman
And cursing my husband
That he will never touch me again,
Our little one was born.

He was beautiful,
And he had
A name.
We called him Luke.

Luke possessed
A life,
A spirit
And now,
A name,
Luke.


This poem was written for the Best of Books open mic topic, A Life, A Spirit.........A Name.