I CONFESS TO REAL ELATION

Today marks the culmination of decades’ impassioned diligence.

No, no epic poem, neither a quarto of sonnets to rival Shakespeare’s. Nothing like that.

Nothing you’d expect at all – let me, simply, tell you: of my own body I have made, out of it brought a messiah.

Yes, of my own body because what I recognized long ago --- the key to all of this --is that everyone ‘has it in him’: the essential stuff – raw material --customizable germ, gestational accommodation . . . intuition: at the critical junctures astute nudges and tweaks to keep the process on the right track . . . and this morning it happened:

I gave birth! The little fellow’s entirely viable --I’m more relieved than words can tell --if fragile, breathing softly: a dot of fog on my watch crystal.

I feed him through a tiny teat I’ve induced at the tip of my little finger, the left one --he’s nursing even as I write: exquisite sensation, lovely the connection.

Small he is, but thoroughly Messiah, no detail nor faculty omitted: from the first and through ten thousand interim decisions, I’ve spared nothing, never skimped nor stinted.

Recorded it all: a hulking tome of a register that quite dwarfs him!