And so, thinking
About what
It was like,
You know,
In the womb…

Well, it was dark.

But the dark was okay,
It was nice.
And it was warm,
But I don’t think I knew that,
But it was nice, too.

And well, then,
I began to
Experience sound.

It was different
Than it is now,
But very nice.

I felt it more
Than I heard it.

I spun around,
And the feeling
Was nice.

It happened.

I was experiencing




The sounds
Were offensive,
The sound of metal
Against metal,
And whooshing sounds
And choking,
Noises, noises,
What’s happening?
My eyes!

And then,

Then I hear
another sound.

That sound…
I know

That sound….

I am this sound…

Copyright 2012

Author's Notes/Comments: 

This is a poem about human gestation and birth.

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LovingLovelace's picture

I have read this twice now

I have read this twice now (in a row, just now) and I got goose bumbs everytime.



If your mirror doesn't find you one of the most beautiful people it has ever seen, punch it and find a better mirror.

nightlight1220's picture

Thanks for reading,

Thanks for reading, LovingLoveLace. Amma is the word for Mother in many languages. Sometimes I swear I can remember my own birth, and since I dream little when I sleep, I truly think my mind goes back to the time in the womb. Safe, warm, cocoon.... Peace.

...and he asked her, "do you write poetry? Because I feel as if I am the ink that flows from your quill."

"No", she replied, "but I have experienced it. "