Birth Story

 

no one can tell you what you mean: where you’re from;

that your parents conceived you too soon—

or too late

 

only you know the weight of your own glory

 

the stardom that comes from someone who loves you

looking out the window, down the long drive

 

on a winter’s night (Christmas Eve)

 

for your longed-for arrival             only you

 

 

This poem appears in my book peace: poems for the spiritual journey – Available on Amazon

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