on your brow I see
the maps and flags of places
you’ve never been– human migration
across tundra and the sea.
You wrinkle your nose and cry like a cat
perhaps last time you made that noise you were under the stars, people in tents with goats, cutting themselves with sharp stones.
Everyone who holds you
is unnerved by your fragility, your newness
but they’re forgetting
you were born in blood
pulled on a rope
washed away by Charon before
setting foot back on this side.
You leapt from unborn to newly born
you walked across a narrow bridge
and all you know is strength
my tiny warrior
my woman for a new age.