I have already borne fruit by being fruit - the fruiting of my mother's womb, the vessel of her hope and love, her faith for her own life and her expectation rises in me like sap this day as I struggle and I strive to bring to life my own spirit resurrected from her death that struck me down like famine, like an axe striking at my root - does enough of the vine remain to suckle me this time?next poem