Will this be your first? they ask.
So what do we say?
That before you was another
who got lost on the way?
Unviable, out of place,
yet loved, oh how loved.
How do we name the agony
of hidden loss, and a treasure
held only by us?
No: not only us. For
before there was you,
or me, or your mother,
there was Life.
And what Life: older than stars,
yet one of us,
made flesh among us.
What a journey this Life made,
across multiverse to wait
nine months like you do now
to come out to this atmosphere,
to beat and to breathe.
What truths this Life knew,
our little lost one now knows:
Eternity’s arms, the comfort of perfect
face-to-face knowing,
the absence of tears.
What tears we have shed.
We will tell you, one day;
one day hold you, and show you
how Love can remain.
The Consolations of Writing 