WEEK 7 (Second office to the left)

We will never forget

The first time we saw you

Nothing but grains of grey

On the ultrasound monitor

Shifting shapes like canyons of shadows

Or liquid landscapes until

The doctor points

To a tiny mass in the screen corner

A swirling cloud of cells over all the noise

And in the middle a blinking light

Like a distant lighthouse throwing

Her line into a snowstorm

That pulsating glow

That is the beginning of your heart

So before skin

And bone

Before there is a beat to hear

Or an organ to monitor

Before there is life

There is this lighthouse burning through a snowstorm

Your own light will be born from it

As will the expression in your eyes

It was you before there was you

Who we made and who we first saw