After Birth
When adrenaline of angel choirs
and birth has worn off,
when the bright star
is hidden in fog,
when frankincense and myrrh
get lost in the luggage,
when I stand in the doorway,
burping the baby, waving goodbye,
there is just this:
my sheer humanness,
diapers to wash,
sleep to find, water to carry,
knowledge of all the God-births
still waiting to happen,
and unstoppable mother-love
that’s draining me already.