Everything is like giving birth
It is the universal metaphor for
The creative. Oh, unwanted life
Is pitiful, this life of suffering
Is the twin gift and curse that
Clings to each other, now one
Now the other, accursed birth
That will not bring us to the edge
Of our last breath or allow us
The full-fledged battle of free
Will verses circumstance.
Sober birth, the cries for
Salvation could be heard in
The shock of cold and pressure
To learn, birth to the senses
That are our reformation.
Birth in a time when culture
Is dying, birth that goes on
Forever reminding us of our
Lineage, birth raw and ragged
As we breathe our first.
Birth that is our battlefield.
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