
The carbon of my body
recalls the best of it all:
the time before
worry and loss,
the time before
hunger and pain,
the time before
good and evil.
The time when
atomic collision
was the long
and short of it.
When molecules
that would travel
far and wide
before becoming
you and I
and the skies
and the trees
buddied up
in the belly of an
elemental bakery.
A super-massive
pulsating, churning,
bubbling womb.
A hostile incubator.
Our celestial mother
martyred by iron
so that we
might live as
rearrangements
of her labors,
her reflection
eternally trapped
in the eyes of
those who
know her best,
reminding us
to never ignore
that we are
all born
together.
Renee Novosel
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