Sacred space in the suburbs


The room crinkles plastic sheeting,

stepping softly, we pause

to help her focus.


All senses gather again

inside walls, to hold a meeting

for a minute.


This is a room for women.  I clamp

a hose to the tap, filling the pool

with warm waters.


Her sisters recreate a womb

out of soft light around her.

Busy, hushed, pause again, carry on.


Trade like hands push and probe,

‘Position is good.  Don’t

push yet.  Let it happen.’


She stands alone in labour,

supported from a distance

of a glass of water.


Ruptured water balloon drains

insulation, coconut saddled into pelvis,

pressing for a three-inch journey.


Another set of leg cramps

down my belly. This body knowing

what to do, taking over.


The walls, quiet street

and sacred night accept the noises

of a first breath and cry.


12 thoughts on “Sacred space in the suburbs

  1. Love it Andrew. Conjures wonderfully vivid memories. Almost makes me want to do it again… almost!

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