The Visitation

I love that, for a moment, you embraced, 
neither wondering how the other came to be 
in her loosened state, knowing 
next to nothing of the contractions to come, 
spasms of envy slaughtering the innocents 
and the barely belated, cruel blows which would fell 
them both, whom you had sheltered 
with your bodies. I love that, for a moment, 
fear was masked by morning sickness, 
mourning by the interruption of a dove 
bearing witness that a shiver can be ecstasy, 
the skip of a heartbeat, love 
instead of danger, the leap of a womb, joy 
among the relentless tug and snag of life, 
its swelling bruise a blessing.

Image: The Visitation Panel from Saint John Retable, Domingo Ram, via wikimedia commons

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