Day 188 and 189

photo by Michelle Johnsen

photo by Michelle Johnsen

Once we found a wood thrush


Lying on the side of the trail,

her breath came quickly, in gasps,

her glittering black eyes shone at us like stars.

We thought she was injured, and hoped her wing would mend.

We nestled her into a small shoe box and decided to carry her home.

But she was weak,

and when we left her alone in the cool dark of our home,

she passed away,

life slipping from delicate limbs

like smoke.

I loved her, and love her still,

with a fierceness that takes my breath away,

the same way I love all the wild ones,

my own son, and

all the wild things.

There are midwives,

of birth.

Bringing life into the world in all its’ wailing, watery glory.

And then there are midwives,

of death,

keeping company, and holding space,

while spirits slip away.

We are midwives,


keeping witness


the whales, and the gorillas, and the bison, and the Rhinos, and the bees, and the  monarchs,

and so many others

teeter on the brink.

We are surrounded by our fallen comrades

shaken, and shell shocked,

as their soft bodies litter the floor.

All wings, and jaw bones, and backbones, and feathers, and fur.

Let us hold them in our outstretched hands

and weep.

We are a million midwives

waiting in between.

May we pray for safe passage,

Thank you for listening,



photo by Wilson Alvarez

photo by Wilson Alvarez


2 responses to “Midwives

  1. Stunning. Love the idea of mid – wives of death..

  2. Absolutely gorgeous, Tash.
    Thank you.
    Achingly stunning.

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