My First Breath Poem by Alan Bruce Thompson

The feel, the noise, the wet all around,
The squeaking, the throbbing, that gasping sound.

It's getting more regular now, that painfull scream.
Some poor person is not enjoying their dream.

Squish, I'm suddenly hauled out of the slime,
I'm held up in hands as they cut the cord in time.

I scream, what else can I do as I escape the crack?
A natural reaction when the nurse slaps my back.

The air comes rushing into my lungs,
For the first time I hear the rolling of tongues.

The persons - all part of the birthing scene,
All worked together, a coordinated team.

I look around the darkened room,
And realise I must take part rather soon.

That exhausted haggard woman must be my mother,
The terrified man must be the other.

The protocol says that I must scream out loud,
To show them that I am part of their crowd.