Pregnant with poetry
I stand on this fertile ground
waiting, breathing
down into my abdomen
my breath nourishing that which is
growing within me
The budding rose grows solid
in the open pasture
Boredom becomes peace
in deepening breath
The fields are unripe with new
harvest, the sweet watermelons
tiny on fresh green vines
Summer is coming and we are
waiting, not waiting
We rest in stillness, not striving for
completion, allowing what is true to arise
in sensation without escaping to
stimulation, being with this
fear of being enough
Letting the ever deepening breath
bathe the womb in tenderness,
dissolving all conceptions of enough
of needing to be a certain way
arriving to peace
Holding the womb, the gentle rise of
my belly, the child is my voice growing
strong, ready, not ready to be birthed into
the summer light, and yet
spring is passing
Emerging, increasing
The cuddling is being and hazy with
the ripening of dormant sexuality
waiting, not waiting
taking, not taking
Maturing, deepening
The self-love, self-coupling, masculine
and feminine within myself, giving and
receiving, an ever-present dance of sex
within myself – I am coming
Here it is, this birthing of self
in wild sweet poems ripening in summer
I have been tending this fertile soil
all winter, turning the compost
and now I can enjoy
Breath quickening
contraction within the womb
Sex, tending, emergence, orgasm
Completion, birth itself the end of one
giant circle of conception
I am the gift and the giver
and I receive myself anew
