Birth

I am no more your mother
than the dark soil
where you rest -
your womb, your coffin
until it's time;
I am no more your mother
than the flaming sun
that stokes your spirit -
reclaimed, rejoicing
at your arrival;
I am no more your mother
than the flannel clouds
that distill joy
filling your every cell
and breath;
I am no more your mother
than the agile wind
who carries you
to the moon and stars
every now and then;
I am no more your mother
than the dancing trees
under whose shade
you will sit some day,
where your eyes
will wander
to the sun and the earth,
to the clouds and the wind,
to the moon and the stars,
who called you
into this world
one fine day.