Newborn

It starts with an illumination
the brightest there will ever be
 
the darkness pierced at the end of the bubble
and the sudden holocaust of white
 
the dreams welled up and carried surging
into slap of air and quaking breath
 
this box of four walls and a ceiling
bounding the new outrageous world
 
of hands that pass to larger hands
and colors teeming in every corner
 
the only light that will rush in
without the memory of light before
 
the cord cut and then the moment’s lift
before the glide into expectant arms
 
the first taste of effortless flight
and the first fleeting touch down.


    Published in The First Thing Mastered (Tebot Bach, 2013)