I do remember being born

I’ve always wanted to say that
but I could never find a way to start
and that is much like being born

I recount a metal table, very cold
and medical masks like down-shifted halos

I was born
again as a single mom

But the “single” stripped the “mom” and undressed
a quiet “I”

the kernel knowledge illuded me
asked me to be born yet again

This time in marriage
and the “wife” bombarded the “beloved”
and slipped us up in “promise”

What will come forth
when I remember that I was never born
but only sent?