She’s still lying wet with life. The foal, just arrived, not yet fully in this world. Her body still trembling with it. A birth is no gentle beginning. Nobody talks about that enough. As if new life were only ever light. As if it left no trace. But trauma can be healing too. Awakening. Becoming whole. Her foaling put her in her power. With the birth of a child, a mother is born too. And maybe we both carry something from that first moment. An imprint. A memory.
