Am I nothing?
Will I be anything?
Is that not astonishing?
Or is it bewildering?
Certainly it is not pleasing
It really leaves me seething
Still I remain dreaming
As I am sleeping
Awakening
I feel pushing
Now squeezing
Soon I am seeing
There is a light beaming
My lungs begin breathing
I begin crying
Gasping!
My bottom is stinging
I hear some joyous laughing
And some screaming
I feel grabbing
and pulling
Now hanging
And swaying
I try clinging
I see faces staring
Smiling
Now wiping
And drying.
I see arms reaching
Ouch! I feel cutting
Now cuddling.
I feel a heart beating
As I begin sleeping
While I am feeding
I feel loving
Like your take on. Orthodox - I have written both a poem and a story on this entitled Becoming, which you may like to read.
I wasn't prepared to be impressed when I began reading. Ing words are somewhat frowned upon in modern verse. But as I read I more drawn in, and I quite enjoyed this description of the birth process as it gestated.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
The experience comes through loud and clear, as any mom can tell you. Well expressed. Read mine - Bloom of Youth - Adeline