Mother

The body knows how to deliver a child. 

Over the edge of what you can control, there is only surrender. 

Surges of pain, of tightness, of breath. 

You crouch low, keening. 

You rest and weep in moments where you cannot go on. 

You let others bear your weight as they witness the mighty work. 

To fight against is to increase pain, lengthen it, prolong it, or even damage yourself. 

Instead, find the rhythm, the flow, working with the currents and contractions,

that carry you deeper,

into a liminal space,

where life is born. 

You must surrender. It is the way. 

The body knows how to grieve a child. 

Over the edge of what you can control, there is only surrender. 

Surges of pain, of tightness, of breath. 

You crouch low, keening. 

You rest and weep in moments where you cannot go on. 

You let others bear your weight as they witness the mighty work. 

To fight against is to increase pain, lengthen it, prolong it, or even damage yourself. 

Instead, find the rhythm, the flow, working with the currents and contractions,

that carry you deeper,

into a liminal space,

where human life ends.

You must surrender. It is the way.