TWENTY- SEVEN

I am
Becoming
Shaping
Ripening
In a bubble

A twenty-seven year old embryo
Curled up
Swiftly turning
Drenched in liquid that smells of sandal wood.

My breath is steady
My skin is tender
And the line of my back stretches into the future.

The things i know
No one else knows
And even in darkness
I feel safe
For anticipation guides me
Despite my closed eyes.

Hush now!
Trouble me not!

Let me grow
Secure in the knowledge
That I will fulfil.