Page 18 - For A Season

Birthing Godde

Caught in the miracle of birthing Godde, that strange

moment of ecstatic possession as the body (once yours alone)
channels life through an obscure, damp passage –

you feel the expansive pangs collaborate with bloody
and embarrassing urges

and then, Godde is clean and nursing at your breast

and you see how vulnerable Godde is amid
the thousand small deities who traffic in desire

who claim to fulfil more than the simple needs of bread, of shelter

for this Godde comes:
empty, hungry, homeless.

this fragile Godde accepts the rough-hewn wood

the straw's sweet smell mingled with the scent of blood
and for one pure moment you love, your heart the eternal sky;

a pulse trembles every exhausted muscle as the infant Godde
inspires your amazement

and your willing sacrifice –

neither the burning in your rock-like breasts, nor the weakness
between your aching thighs would hinder your ministrations

as you change soiled cloths and nurse the perfect lips
you watch with wonder and surprise, glorious joy

gnawing on your heart,
in this beatific vision

there is no room for the future impatience, the frustration

that will surely come, unwanted images undulating
into this paradisal moment, nearly eclipsing it,

for you've seen the mouth that once kissed