Gestation

Today we reach the sea and

are born after countless attempts:

the first womb, a garden where 

all things grow, fecund and accessible, 

but after false starts, disconnects, mistakes,

the first menstruation: expulsion from Eden; 

next an intentional death born of sibling rivalry 

competing for what appear to be limited resources; 

followed by a malformed growth producing wickedness 

in need of miscarriage and cleansing through water;

and a new womb, an ark floating on the flood, rebirth;

several more unions and delays, affairs, promises,

broken promises, abuse, infertility, barrenness, 

prolific procreation, cruelty and forgiveness, 

karma and sankara, neglect, and domestic violence; 

we have been lodged in the narrows of Mitzrayim

for hundreds of years, enduring a slavery where we 

were commanded to build without adequate resources, 

 eternally "laboring" under harsh conditions;

Moses: metaphor for the sperm 

who became implanted in the egg-palace

while all the other male cells died in the Nile, 

Moses matured and grew like the head of an embryo, 

the growth of the brain, his mind and awakening spirit, 

as each cell became distinct over time;

the organs of the infant are cohesive enough 

to now survive outside this womb

aware that the container cannot hold them, 

the fetus will have to leave or die trying; 

we begin our struggle to exit with 10 stages,

10 centimeters, contractions so strong 

they feel like brimstone, frogs, lice,

boils, vermin, locusts, etc. 

the infant takes all the necessary nutrients 

from the host like stolen booty;

in this vulnerable moment, we paint an amulet 

 of blood on the doorposts - the mother's legs - 

to protect our birth from the destroyer;

it feels like death, fear, darkness and urgency;

but at last we have arrived at the edge of the sea  

bursting through an impossible crossing 

 cervix thins, vagina splits, perineum tears 

the child led by the head that is Moses, 

passes through the Red Sea, pursued by

the thing that kept us alive and tethered, 

the umbilical cord and placenta, 

trying to follow and to bring us back 

but there is no going back and 

the Pharaoh/placenta is stopped in its tracks 

and cut off by some midwife goddess, 

who removes those tissues of thousands of cells 

that die in the wake of sea, blood and fluid. 

We emerge and are met with joy, dancing,

the whole Earth rejoicing in song at our birth;

we turn our face to the mountain like a breast

promising nourishment and comfort at Sinai