Delivery

The pain and pleasure of delivering a poem
Carry more than nine months of pregnancy
They pass in one hour or two years,
Announcing a new cycle of hesitancy.
Words drip and create an embryo

In a womb of a winding road
With obstacles and prairies
They grow like trees in a forest
To form a picture that may be dark but honest.
They stagger in our heads, searching for a home
As if they’ve been traveling for days, unknown
Sometimes they dance to the music
And other times, they observe a passing crowd
Give them water for their roots can be
As powerful as the strongest typhoon
Yet as tender as the sweetest emotion.
Finally, they reach home and land on its pages
They are ready to leave their cages.
Between the ink that has dried
And the wetness of their desires
They sit waiting for their liberator
Wondering how they will transform
To become alive.