Contemplation

I’m rushing again to the self
that once meant death
to the life I lived in the womb,

protected by my mother's body,
fed by her blood:
a solitary, quiet existence.

Now I'm rushing back to myself
in a kind of death
that leads to a different adult,

having grounds for hope
and a kind of essential knowing
not embraced by crowds;

to return to the inborn wisdom
that is myself,
representative of the cosmos
and my father’s son.