Magnificent Story of Our Births
A poem dedicated to all the mothers in the world
I’m going to tell you a story about the day you were born
It was a Monday or a Tuesday or perhaps another day of the week
It was some time after dusk or maybe the sun had risen in the sky
Day or night — it did not matter, because
There was a struggle, a whirlwind of commotion and a ton of stress
You were in a place of darkness, a warm chamber of ambience
There was a light at the end of a tunnel, you moved toward it
A blinding glow that consumed the vision you were yet to know
You heard the voice of a woman, maybe your mother, or a midwife, or nurse
It could have been the doctor’s muffled sounds that you heard first
You gasped and wailed at the abrupt onslaught of a new day
You kicked and flailed your tiny arms and little legs about
Grasping and struggling to hold onto anything, a warm limb
It was not until you met your mother skin to skin
It’s where you finally found a comforting and loving touch
A soothing hand and a kiss — a peck — on your head
This is the story of humanity and our daily struggles
Let us be grateful for all the mothers who gave us birth
And all the mothers who will give birth to the future
Our generations yet to come
