The fetus is the result of her parents genes,
physiology, and possibility.
The baby is the result of his successful gestation
and mothers participation.
The child is the result of how she parses
all those lies and truths
whispered to her by haints in the dark.
The adolescent is the result of his fight
to reconcile all those lies,
those stinging horse flies buzzing around his ears,
with those few truths he has managed to hold in his heart.
(No wonder teens are a breed apart!)
The adult is the result of the splinters and shards,
those pieces of her, remaining,
adhering each to each, so she can journey on.
The old one,
the gray bearded one, the blue-haired lady,
is the result of how much blood-loss
a body can sustain and still totter down
that narrowing, shrinking road
to its grave.