He opens his eyes in the
\namniotic fluid of his mother.
\nHis fingers open and close
\nlike anemones.
\nThe enthrallment of voices
\nis clear,
\nstrange sounds.
\nHe hugs the invisible,
\nin the lucid darkness
\nof the womb.<\/p>\n
Only once will he enter
\nthe channel of his birth,
\nthen new epiphanies
\nwill close that door.
\nSyllables will proclaim a name,
\nas if a fog is being lifted.
\nBut where is the heartbeat
\nof his mother\u2019s soul?
\nThe quiet of her enfolding?<\/p>\n
So inscrutable this passage
\nfrom twilight into cold.
\nThe cataclysm of air, nakedness
\nand covering,
\nexhausted slumber.
\nChild cast into time.
\nThe beginning of a destiny
\nforeseen
\nby greater eyes than ours,
\nput into our arms.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
He opens his eyes in the amniotic fluid of his mother. His fingers open and close like anemones. The enthrallment of voices is clear, strange…<\/p>\n