We made love together
In the moment before you died
And I was born.
It wasn't love like I know it now,
Not a thing of sweat & gasps & moans -
It was my feet and fists,
Your hands rubbing oh, so gently.
It was warmth and soothing peace.
We weren't together, not stuck
To each other, lips like suction cups.
Separated by skin & fluids & life
We made love but only touched
With that feeling of awareness and belonging.
But our love ruptured, became
Screams of ecstaxy & pain,
Wails of fear & confusion,
Gasps & invading hungers,
Beeps & clamouring voices,
And the hum of machines.
And our privacy
Our sanctuary
Our Home
Was gone.
It left us
With the
Warmth
As you
Became
A mother
& I was born.

- Josh MacLeod, 2002