August 06, 2024, 10:08 PM
once, she had been the cause for simple discomfort.
then she had learned to kick, to shove. these actions done in the rhythm of a heartbeat she had come to call her own too. in sync with her mother by blood even if not by action or thought. she had not known it made her mother cry so fiercely, but this had become her way of assuring her.
i am alive, i am here.
she shared a heartbeat with her mother until the moment the world thundered with hoofbeats. upon the earth in the grass and blood, the very same way she might leave this earth one day. it was there she felt them. the herd started her heartbeat into the life her mother had delivered her into.
she wailed.
she learned to scream, to cry, to breathe here upon the earth.
the sun began to wrap the earth and the herd had welcomed the young into its extended family. her mother had welcomed her into the immediate family. it was exhaustive to be birthed into such a grand moment, to such loud celebrations of her arrival.
firstborn, blood of yellowstone.
she knew she would not be alone. she had not been alone in the womb and she would not be alone at her mother's side on the outside either.
yet she was without her siblings for hours.
in these moments she came to know her mother in the way only a newborn could. the touch of teeth, fur, tongue. the taste of milk and the rich scents of such a ceremonious day. then she knew — her. she had known her in the womb, now she knew her in their world. two were comfortable, content, sheltered safely.
they were missing something —
finally!
their mother had brought a brother to the sisters. whole, complete. anatolia felt peace that had not existed when she had been screaming at birth. the scent of siblings, the scent of mother. this may have not been where they had first come to know each other but it would be where their future was forged together.
pudgy and content, she shoved herself into her mother's side between siblings.
she would not remember these long hours in an even longer day, but she would remember the ones here forever.
then she had learned to kick, to shove. these actions done in the rhythm of a heartbeat she had come to call her own too. in sync with her mother by blood even if not by action or thought. she had not known it made her mother cry so fiercely, but this had become her way of assuring her.
i am alive, i am here.
she shared a heartbeat with her mother until the moment the world thundered with hoofbeats. upon the earth in the grass and blood, the very same way she might leave this earth one day. it was there she felt them. the herd started her heartbeat into the life her mother had delivered her into.
she wailed.
she learned to scream, to cry, to breathe here upon the earth.
the sun began to wrap the earth and the herd had welcomed the young into its extended family. her mother had welcomed her into the immediate family. it was exhaustive to be birthed into such a grand moment, to such loud celebrations of her arrival.
firstborn, blood of yellowstone.
she knew she would not be alone. she had not been alone in the womb and she would not be alone at her mother's side on the outside either.
yet she was without her siblings for hours.
in these moments she came to know her mother in the way only a newborn could. the touch of teeth, fur, tongue. the taste of milk and the rich scents of such a ceremonious day. then she knew — her. she had known her in the womb, now she knew her in their world. two were comfortable, content, sheltered safely.
they were missing something —
finally!
their mother had brought a brother to the sisters. whole, complete. anatolia felt peace that had not existed when she had been screaming at birth. the scent of siblings, the scent of mother. this may have not been where they had first come to know each other but it would be where their future was forged together.
pudgy and content, she shoved herself into her mother's side between siblings.
she would not remember these long hours in an even longer day, but she would remember the ones here forever.
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Messages In This Thread
dear child, - by Nephele - August 06, 2024, 12:05 PM
RE: dear child, - by Nephele - August 06, 2024, 12:06 PM
RE: dear child, - by Nephele - August 06, 2024, 12:06 PM
RE: dear child, - by Anatolia - August 06, 2024, 10:08 PM
RE: dear child, - by Zephyra - August 20, 2024, 10:50 AM
RE: dear child, - by Alasdair - September 02, 2024, 08:07 PM