from alien to human

poetry

down inside,
in the deepest, safest place,
grows an alien, devoid
of thought,
of knowledge,
waiting to burst forth,
after a proper gestational period,
in a shower of
blood,
placenta,
flesh,
splattering any and all
in the line of fire
with the accompaniment
of life,
of birth,
of becoming
human,
of being
human.

Leave a comment