she is pregnant with large belly and breasts being made ready. she leans on me, touching strong legs and arms that are not sure what to do. i ask if we are ready.

this is not our first. each one has come differently. some have been lost and so we are wiser and more careful.

the birth of the new requires a compassionate community; midwives that dance, cry and moan with the mother, older children who know how to source and boil water and care for the younger, elders who sit quietly, and laugh, and pray.

i am not good at drawing pictures, yet, but i imagine.

(imagine your beloved pregnant, and focus)

sometimes it’s hard to remember my dreams. what sticks in the mud of my mind? this has been my attempt at remembering.

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