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.