Word Child

“Embryo” – Author’s painting

Sometimes she’s born
all in a rush,
shining, complete —

just maybe a tweak
of a word, here or there,
and she stands straight
and tall,
on her own.

Others endure
a long gestation,
a painful birth,
to emerge
stunted, not fully formed,
or worse, deceased
in utero.

Yet another will rest
quiet in womb, come through
in labour, neither easy
nor hard, not slow
or fast, just born

in her own sweet time.

And when she comes
blinking, into the world,
she neither shocks
nor delights —

ㅤjust is

what she is.

But that
is not
where she stops.

Bare features, once crude,
over time, when shaped
ㅤㅤby love
can be made fine,