Day 612

She is aching to feed her baby
who has been born
after years of waiting, longing,
trying.  The baby
is small, come
into this world
only days ago,
four weeks early.  Still,
she is whole.  She has toenails,
eyelashes.  Her mother
offers her breast.  The baby
latches.  Sucks.  There’s
a little milk.  Not much.
Perhaps when she can suck
more vigorously, more milk
will come in.  But if there’s
not much milk, there can be
no vigor.  The mother
thinks about this as she sits
in her tent.  Her baby
is sleeping now,
peacefully, in her lap.  Too
new yet to know
fear, to worry
there won’t be enough.