Poem 4/30/11

To Myself, Fifteen Years Ago:

One distant night,
in ten years and two weeks,
at 3 am on a mid-May night,
you will find yourself awake,
pacing, teeny baby slung
over your shoulder
as tears cascade from you both.
And in that moment, dear self,
without-a-moment-of-hesitation
you will know how very big your debt
is to the ones who did this work
before you, and held your mewling body
when you could not hold yourself.
And in that instant you will be
transformed, completely, forever.