My Miracle

My very own miracle

You came in and I realised

My doors weren’t closed;

You took root in my insides

When I believed my soil was barren

You grew unnoticed until I could

No longer ignore your presence…


We haven’t met and

We won’t for weeks more

Yet I feel you more than

The tangible

And you need me more than

The fathomable…

A true symbiosis, we are

Feeding off each other;

And surviving because…


However miraculous,

You mostly are never a pleasure:

I’ve retched clutching

You with my stomach;

I am ravenous,

My thoughts forever on food…

I’ve softened,

My sharp edges blurring into

Motherly curves;

I’m nervous and euphoric

In turns; but mostly just worn out…


But I felt you kick and that was

Most rewarding;

From that ignorable flutter

You have grown to frolicking

Within my abdomen…

A surprise in each kick and every move

One that never wears off, but

Only intensifies my flying days…


So, who are you my little miracle?

My mother’s words come to mind:

Babies choose their parents and

Fight God to be born to them

And them alone…

Will you ever tell me why you

Chose to happen to me

And fought to be mine?

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About Runa

With words you can reveal, hide, confuse, clarify, rule, beg, love, hate. In speech words live momentarily and die with the moment. In writing, they are immortalised and in being unspoken and unwritten, they become omnipotent: God like. My words here could have remained unspoken. Could have. They're immortal and that's enough. View all posts by Runa

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