In a long concourse,
In a big hospital,
I spied a man pushing an
Empty gurney.
As I came closer I saw it carried a small clump of brown fabric
Which suddenly moved!
A tiny soul nested in a soft blanket
On the expanse of pure white sheet,
Kicking small legs and cooing small coos from tiny pursed lips.
How carefully the attendant stepped to safeguard his precious load.
And behind him, a woman pushed a bulging carriage,
Completing the makeshift entourage.
And Then,
Approaching us down the sunlit hall,
Appeared an aged Nubian Queen being borne upon a liter.
She was a bright jewel, her hair tucked into a many-hued headwrap,
Her robe glowing carmine and blue.
She sat regally as if in a palanquin,
So surrounded by her Tribe that it was
Impossible to see the means of her transport.
She hovered,
As if on a cloud of white.
She cast her gaze upon the wriggling infant
And saw the genesis of life.
Her eyes softened and her round wizened face broke into a gentle smile
As she nodded a silent blessing from the old to the new
As they both traversed the
Fragile Intersection of
The Corridors of
Life
and
Death.
