womb to womb

I don't know how this wall came up
between you and me,
perhaps it was built brick by brick
by voices raised by a silence
too heavy to speak,
but I know how I always stood there close,
against those bricks,
waiting for something I could not name,
I could not claim as my own,
listening to the cold dampness
that I could not touch but only feel,
words that felt busy, distant and staid,
all the while wishing
for the wall to break open
into a hug that would hold me
no matter what,
a hug that I could not weave
with my own hands,
that always seemed too small for you;

and so the silence grew like ivy,
weaving and clasping the wall,
new leaves that only grew darker
with time, even when they looked
to the sun, forever too far away;
until there was only darkness around me,
over me, through me, inside me,
gnawing me to my bones,
a darkness that took me back to the womb,
the home I'd left a long time ago,
too scared to enter, until you took me
in your arms and held me close, at last,
rocking me gently to sleep -
a girl of twenty one;
and that's what I remember
of you with me,
that was my first breath of fresh air,
breaking me into a new life,
to craft it with the fire and waters
of my womb, grown from yours,
and the cry of a heart
that longs for itself
and another womb to rest and seed.

I give you this dear Mother,
with love -
this hand-crafted life,
from womb to womb.