In that one moment
when you wake up in the dead of night and feel them
the presence of all the women gone before you
Your mother and hers and on and on.
Your sisters and friends
and even enemies who have traveled down this road
Some in fear, and joy.
With purpose and pain
Suffering humiliation and finding empowerment
Laughing, crying, grieving for something lost
Embracing all that is new.
It is a well worn path
You travel alone, uplifted by all that has been
to write your own story of all that might be.
In the still moments, you wait, and rock and
cry out to all the mothers and gods who will help you.
And soon a babe is born.