The Birth

The struggle begins in a dark dark place,
No time, no light, is his,
Yet somehow he knows that light and grace
Will come from the pain of this.

Twisting and turning, agony
Yet he knows the light is there
Straining, little heart bursting
He has to have the air.

Suddenly, a rush of light
He takes his first sweet breath
This is life, the beginning,
Triumphant, emerged from death.

Touched by the sunlight
He spreads translucent wings
A butterfly has been born
Somewhere, an angel sings.

(c)Pauline Nind