Getting Born

Their motions were silhouetted against the drapes, moving, bouncing toward the doors.
I cloaked myself in the shadow of the pines and waited.

With a clamor they burst open
and the light streamed and flickered lengthwise, blinding, across the snow.

The first one froze at the edge of the darkness
This threshold between womb and world
Held out a strong bunched arm that caught the other across the gut.

Spoken words snatched mid-syllable, sinking on the current and swirling at their feet
An instant suspended like a weightless orb

With only breath spurting in misty puffs into the night.

They turned to each other slowly, wide-eyed, maybe sisters or maybe lovers
and asked when it had gotten dark.

And the first one said
While we were laughing.

The second said
No.

Somehow we found ourselves inside out.
Found ourselves in Tomorrow before it was Today.
And yet here we are.

Let’s get born.
Let’s get born right now. Together.

They shrieked, and they hooted,
And – hand grasping mittened hand – they strode out into the darkness.

And I could only watch the two slowly vanish under the stars.
My own breath pouring slowly from tiny nostrils, rising silently, finally fading to darkness
Feel the cold, the air, dragging me downward
Could only begin to wonder.

Let’s get born, they said.
As though anyone could just choose that sort of thing.