Tricia Thibodeaux

First Reading

She takes her first tenuous steps,
My child, walking on a current of slippery breath.
Surprised, I stare at her strangeness, for
In my mind she is one round body,
Her legs and her arms are not threads…
She could not be separated into parts. 

Exhaled into the world, she appears,
Sent from my center on a tenuous vibrating chord.
She is hesitant and must be expelled from my body
Through constant pressure and great control. 

My child dances at the end of a lavender string,
Unsteady on untried legs, unable to stand alone.
She is not yet herself, but a nervous reflection
Of her mother, who is the mother of many but who
Knows nothing of her children in the world.



(photo by Kyle Tschepikow)