MIDWIFE

You are a miner

masked, gloved, alert

bent over the blessed opening

You reach with skilled hands

to grip and pull

new life into the light

You force the slippery infants

into their destiny

day after day

inexhaustible mine

You send them with a pat

into their future

some will be saints

some will be sinners

some will build

some will destroy

all will die

the angry screaming

bundles of need

are waiting at the gate

demanding their first gifts

of milk

and sleep

and love