"Before the Blinds were Lifted", an epidural poem

Before the blinds were lifted
you stepped into the water.
You knew where to go, to rest your head, to splay your knees.
You knew how to melt and how to moan.
With each wave you knew to raise your head to your ancestors, to call for them or pray, to hear them with each rest. 

Before the blinds were lifted, the flames danced around you.
Their light licked the walls, your brown skin,
your lover's face. 
The room smelled of geranium.
As your world became smaller, you knew you were somewhere else,
inside a growing cell of wisdom and surrender.
A tiny piece of heritage and ceremony.

Before the blinds were lifted
to the bright light of day, you labored in your den.
Wild, afraid,
​un-you.
Your passage waiting patiently 
for your becoming.
  

To the moms who have been here, I see you, I was you, and what you did was beautiful.

---