the color and the name : birth
black is for birth. white is for death.
red is for everything in between.
but her birth was ripped from death's pale hands.
it's always been a wonder.
the air was that of mourning.
her father sat in the waiting room;
weeping and praying and weeping.
the doctors had prepared for a stillborn.
she arrived tiny, skeletal--
more a fetus than a baby.
but she arrived with breath,
and breath enough to scream.
and the scream that split the hospital halls
was red as her mother's blood.