at fifty
I
am the child
within my belly.
My pain layers
fiber upon fiber…
crust is my defense.
Time hardens
a shield
built of softness--
armor of tenderness
I bear down
I breathe and groan
upon the threshold…
GET OUT OF MY WAY!
I
am coming through--
I am my trial heart.
I am my human weakness
I am a pale pink newborn
little girl
female phenomenon.
There is power
in tenderness
gentle softness
vulnerable tears.
Armed with my shield
I surrender to truth.
I bleed.
I have large breasts.
My twice pregnant belly
protrudes.
I am beautiful.
I am strong.
I am a woman
giving birth
to my Self.
.
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