Fed

Slowly it's popping out,

Showing me a side of myself

I haven't thought about in years.

It's white, and speckled,

With black dots and scar tissue.

It's from this, that I clung to my mother,

Grabbing the rope that bound us

For dear life.

It's through my belly button that I nursed,

Breathed,

Pooped,

Grew.

I felt the blood and oxygen

From my mother's body

Flow into me like a living stream,

Building me cell by cell

Organ by organ.

Now it's popping out,

Reminding me of this bond,

Reminding me of my mother.

Even so, she stands before me,

Holding pans of stewed chicken and rice

Or pumpkin soup and smoothies.

She is standing before me, nourishing me

In ways I have yearned for since the womb--

Trickling vitamins and minerals,

And life force into my tired and achy body.

And through these meals, and care, and warm hugs,

I nourish you, little baby.

As you suck, and nurse, and breathe

Through the umbilical cord,

Welcoming a living stream from my body to yours,

I am in awe,

That I get to be a vessel to life for you.

That your belly button binds us so dearly,

That this tiny space on your tummy,

Is transporting you through a tunnel

From a ball of cells,

To a child I get to love on and bless.

As I see my belly grow,

I am honored to feed you,

By the body my mother made,

And the food she now nourishes me with.

One thing is true:

You are here—in every way—because of her.