o little seed of hope, somehow
taking root in the inner darkness,
being, as it has been said, "knit together,"
what a world awaits your wet arrival,
a cavernous womb of brokenness.
will you yet be born?
you, who are both desired and despised,
welcomed and, with a warrant on your head,
will you still somehow choose this life,
knowing you will be delivered to death?
the world, in anticipation, waits.
o, come. be born this broken birth