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	poems

We Rise to the Occasion

A king looked down at an aspiring knight;
The young man’s bundled muscles hidden
under polished armor. He had been toiling for this:
Sweaty afternoons preparing for the Test
Stretching
Muscle building
Practicing technique, or
Mental stratagems.

And when the time arrived, he knew
he was ready.

Did the knight then
permit the challenge to commence before the appointed hour?
request a cadre of strangers to offer advice and tend his wounds?
implore, in advance, to be rushed along if he stalled for time?
beg the sword of the challenger to be blunted?
allow others to finish for him when he became weary?
Did he forsake his preparation and his pride?

No.

Nor will I accept the blunt sword
of epidurals or the interventions of time-structured strangers.
I will arm myself with knowledge and trusted companions.

I will be fighting a fierce battle.

And if I’m knocked flat on my back,
I will not stay down passively
letting myself be rushed along by Pitocin.
I will get up and rely on my training.
My body will prove itself
As I pass this challenge and am dubbed
Mother,
a child’s weight laid upon my shoulders.

Britt Kaufmann