Twenty years

(This is another poem I found in an old notebook)

Twenty years from womb

burst out crying, burst out small and red

began to grow and walk and humanize

learned to talk an harmonize.

Always in its warm, protective shadow

I remained.

Stumbling forward hands and feet first

mouth open and eyes in wonder

I wandered knowing always how to return

to that safe, sound spot

where, against the howls,

I could remain.

And now, twenty years from womb

from remaining and leaving, I have returned.

What I found, where I discovered, who I am

returned to you to share these things.

In disgust you turn away, close your eyes.

Once refusing to see, I can no longer ignore

that twenty years from womb

I've escaped your tomb.