The Cut
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They had to cut. Plunged in a semi-conscious state, she greeted the news with 
perfect serenity, close to indifference. No fear could be involved, it just had to be 
done and she trusted it would be alright. The surgery room was cold, and she felt 
fire. She was overwhelmed and freezing. She couldn't see him, but she could 
sense him somewhere next to her, lost in the blurry glare of the ceiling lights. 
They striped her to the table, her hands on either side, stretched out, naked, 
ready to be delivered. She was shaking as she felt the flesh being assaulted in a 
painless torment. The greatest joy was about to flood her veins, and they cut 
through the sleeping sking and they pushed on her breast. They pushed so hard 
she wanted to cry but no sound came out, just a deep sigh. And then it 
happened: the muscles were pulled apart and her womb exposed to the open. In 
the flash of a timeless second, they were two and they became three. It was early 
in the morning and the sun was probably rising above the thick clouds full of 
november snow. The cry resounded through her insides, it had the strength of a 
thousand cataclysms, it tore her away from her old self, it reduced to dust the old 
universe to create a new sun, a new breath... He was born and she drifted in 
dreams... She was a planet, floating in blue darkness, huge stellar saws fell from 
the sky to free the life seething underneath her soil, and a volcanic eruption 
propelled her inner core into space where it turned into a burning star.