She came in from the Crowded Night-
flecks of light and flecks of dark-
on her clothing shimmering
Around her swirled Half-Meanings,
Inconsistencies, Beauty Lights
and Pale Remembrances.
her silvery voice
sang of Love and Loneliness
Peace and War
things human and not
pretty and not
dead and alive.
More came to assemble before her-
a crowd of the Inspired and the Expired
the Isolates and the Amongers
The Initiates and the Tired
The Baby Faces and the Aged
The Energetic and the Lazy
the Was Ones, the Is Ones
and those lined up waiting for life to begin.
you and I
begin in the Dark Sea Womb
slosh in our dingy boat
hearing breathing sounds;
float in Nurture Fluid
jostle on Motherly Seas
looking for the Birth Shore;
looking for Land-Fall
that Path-Way to Getting Born
and Tsunami- Like
we are contracted first and then
thrust upside down and out
pushed into unfamiliar light
hearing for the first time
the unmuffled human voice,
feeling hands which reach,
pull, ply and poke
slipping us into the Born World
from the Unborn One
and some of us cry.
'I am Janus the Guardian of Life's Vestibule
to explain to you- the only seconds old-
what transit is from your past world
to this next one.'
Your passage is from dark sea to
Brightly Lit Hope
each of you a dream to be;
each of your All Potential
a bouncing baby.
Some of you will birth to fine circumstance.
Some to already damaged hope.
'Gather to me, she said 'and hear what expectations
you can be and be transformed.
Gather to me and take from me this dollop-
a balm to Soaring Hope
or Beaten Down Anticipations
which to each.'
They all lined up before her
to take from her hand
the Thin Wafer of Promise
their mouths opened wide
for its receipt
their hearts abeating;
for life is relentless
and moves inexorably
thrusting us all into its relentless sleeve.
'Rejoice' she said
'whatever your entry point
whatever your circumstance;
each of you has been ejected from the crowed night;
already a miracle done and born.
Life here, then, properly defined
is Opportunity to produce more miracles
above and beyond that which is yourself..
Your mission is set here in this vestibule.
I am your clarifer
your mission setter
your Guardian Angel assigned to you at Birth.
She spread her hands above them all
'I pronounce you The Born.'
Lonnie Hicks's Other Poems
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (The Born by Lonnie Hicks )
- this day, sheade rudman
- Love Always, Saturday Chikezie Promise
- Smile Not For All, Savita Tyagi
- Life with you, Saturday Chikezie Promise
- Love for OLUEBUBE, Saturday Chikezie Promise
- Broken Dreams, Saturday Chikezie Promise
- My mattress, Nassy Fesharaki
- أولوية, مالك حداد
- Finding Self, Pradip Chattopadhyay
- سأهبك غزالة, مالك حداد
Poem of the Day
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
- Heather Burns
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)