born

A child is born.  And a new mother too.

Last night I watched a mamma find her way.

"I love you," I said to her.  And I did.

I loved her eyes, shining in the candlelight.  Her mouth, open, teaching me a new language.  I loved her body, every part of it.  I witnessed her struggle, it was all hers.

On the other end of the phone connection was a new father,  heard through the noise of the Midway of a carnival, working and crying, loving and listening.

Laundry hummed in the dark of the basement.

Jars of homemade teas glistened and the sweet smell of rosemary rose from the pool in the middle of the room.

And when her baby came, I looked around me and knew that everything in this home was love.  Mother Mary watched from an altar in the corner, eyes watchful and trusting.   Sheets and other cloths hung in the windows, casting a different kind of light.

A child is born.

To be born into love is to be born into light, into hope.  And tonight I pray for all mammas, all women

That we may find our way to the light that strengthens and nourishes

Through all the pain and hopelessness

So that maybe one day our children will be received without fear

Born into light

And we will be born too