Sacred Contracts XVIII: Revolutionary

     
I was borne with the 'Jesus      
Connection' at 3:33 AM,        
Wind and Water raged        
against the hospital,        
slinging their wet fists      
across bleeding walls      
of sobbing brick.      
       
It was autumn of ’59;      
The temperature rose      
Ten degrees in the matter        
of an hour, declaring war        
against its colder counterpart        
lingering in the atmosphere.      
       
My father was serving his first      
Tour in 'Nam when my mother’s dam        
burst in the corridor of the maternity        
ward, flooding the gurney        
with a partial veil of embryonic        
sac across my face that        
had refused to wait for her        
to push me out.      
       
I was born in an open space        
beside a window. First        
memory of radiance was      
a lighting flash back dropping        
the Water fall on the other        
side of streaked glass.        
The Wind knitting leaves        
and debris into waving scarves      
of rain that comfort me      
to this very day.      
       
My aunt said I fought        
the doctor's hands as he rent        
the veil from my face, and      
didn't cry when slapped        
into my first breath. She said        
I stared, quietly breathing        
into the storm instead, transfixed,        
detached from life, she said        
they looked outside to see what        
was there before wheeling        
us to the delivery room        
to be cleaned.        
       
The doctor said I didn't get        
enough oxygen during birth      
and would be 'slow' in Life.        
He said there were programs        
for children like me, for my        
mother not to be too upset.        
My aunt said I let out a scream        
so curdling he spun in his steps        
and stared, his face aghast.        
       
I stopped, and stared right back.
 
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