Born Again

Gripped in death throes
I screamed in anguish
Thrashing wildly
Make it stop

Tears dripping from my eyes
I looked down at me
Lying so still
It’s done

A stranger arriving at my side
He offered his hand
Holding bland sweets

I took the cake and left his hand.
He smiled.
He fed me my tombstone
And I was born.

One thought on “Born Again

  1. This is beautiful. The kind of glorious joy mothers show in their eyes when they speak of having a baby. Your poem goes beyond that; for when one changes, shedding the shroud of old habits and embracing a new self, the death-birth is a conscious act… of intense pain and of hopeful joy.

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