Birth

When my daughter was born, I did not push her out with all of my will, muscle, and might.
I did not scream, or cry, and not once did I howl "I can't do this any more!"
My body was not torn apart; it did not give way as a new being spilled into the world
And though my ears searched desperately, with little hope, for a cry
There was only vast, bright silence in the moment of her birth.