I got stuck in the birthing.

(sorry, mom)

I hesitated, as if knowing
that to leave the warm invisible,
film-dream played vivid in my mind,

meant joining to always visible—
words that could burn or freeze,
strip and leave me naked
and wriggling like a fish in the grass.

But I had to know,
the dark around me on fire—

what was I like in the light?

I gave up all that was certain,
for a world that I might not like.

How thankful I am
that I chose not to remain
a spoiled, unfulfilled thought,

for this world was made
to be filled with the language of my love—
and I have grown quite fond
of my ever-expanding beauty.