The Right of Passage
She lies waiting withinswelling with breath untilshe can no longer carry.She yeilds for the birthof selfof childof ideasof patience of the deep abis of love.That tipping point, that birth,is it's own story. For some it scars, for others it laughsand some miss the whole affair altogetherbecause it was seemless or because they choose to. But the outcome,this right of passage, this intagration, this is still present. You are still a different womanregardless of how you birthed.And don't suspect you need a child for such an affair,for children with children are not woman.The power, unleashed, the movement of an oceangiving and taking.This Right of Passage,you are now woman.
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