Sixty-six Years Ago I was Thrust into Life

Sixty-six years ago I was thrust into life.

However old anyone is, he or she was thrust into life,

And it was a traumatic struggle.

Some believe Original Sin is a metaphor

For the birthing experience. It might be a blessed event

For mother and father but it’s hell for the kid.

The water breaks and I’m Falling from the watery Eden

Where breathing was never a problem. I dream of swimming

Underwater for hours at a time.

I bring my knees up to my chest and flip over and over

And salty water never goes up my nose.  I want to swim forever

In this warm, watery wonderland.

But I only had nine months in the saline paradise and I gasped for air.

Hands pulled my head and then legs from fetal to straight,

Wiped my eyes, poked into my mouth and up my nose.

I inhaled the cold, dry sterile air and watched bright, white light

That hurt my eyes.  “Please let me go to that briny,

Sweet smell and taste that familiar/dark/mysterious womb again.”

“Goin’ home, goin’ home, Lord, I’m goin’ home.”

I roll on my side, pull my knees up close to my chest and

Slide my hand between her thighs.