'unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given' Isaiah 9.6
Thus I was born, gory and
gasping unfamiliar air.
A stranger in an alien world,
alone and afraid.
Separated by the severing
of the umbilical cord -
my bonding delayed
by ritual cleansing.
Imprisoned in swaddling,
I was finally offered
to the woman who bore me,
and she smelt familiar.
Instinct found me her breast
and the comfort of her arms.
Her gentle voice reassured,
and I felt safe.
So this is I.
The ninth letter of the alphabet.
A singular pronoun of the first person.
But this I am yet to learn.
jerry hughes
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/arrival-4/
