That Day

My hand holds the spoon and shakes.
I've waited for this day
For the leash of time and space which ties us together
Now short and taught,
to slacken
So that I can stretch my arms and legs
a bit,
But my hand shakes
and I remember another day

I realize, as you swallow, that that day
That day that I roared you into life
That day with its blood and tears and soft, new skin
That day is mine.
It belongs to me.
You do not.

You didn't begin on that day
It was not my hand that shaped your spirit,
which I have mostly yet to meet.
It was another hand, on another day and
you belong to Him.
And to yourself.