Earlier this year, I read the Post obituary of beat poet Diane di Prima, who lived a fascinating life and wrote a beautiful poem to her child in the womb called: “Song for Baby-O, Unborn.” She wrote that when her baby “breaks thru” to find her, a poet, as a mother, it might “not quite what one would choose.” But she promises the best any mother can do:
I won’t promise
you’ll never go hungry
or that you won’t be sad
on this gutted
breaking
globe
but I can show you
baby
enough to love
to break your heart
forever
