by Sarah Law
She knew it was something wonderful –
the weight of it, the pulsing will to live,
and if she was on her own, her labour
so much the better for that. The stars and cows
were companions enough. Animal breath
formed myriad angel wings. The earth
was hard and real against her back. When
the child was born there was mess and delight,
a wiping down, a wrapping, and a place,
(no place to speak of) offering safe harbour.
A miracle. Entirely of herself, and yet,
she had nothing to do with it, only giving
her weeks and months, her body and blood;
untold faith in the power of her calling.