Poem 129 – in every woman, a mother

in every woman, a mother

a woman loves
immaculate
her womb holds life
conceived in the glories
of generations past
in unity with her own
extraordinary magic

beyond the wounds
from yesterday’s villains
a woman leaps – flailing gracefully
into the open mouth
of labour’s bulging face

she chooses birth
on the sun-lifted dawn
of each fresh day
belly hard with
hope or human or both

a woman is a mother who loves
immaculate in her infinite conceptions
gushing tenderness like stardust

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