Two thousand and twenty-five;
the year of the wood snake.
Typically I am not one to follow
the Chinese zodiac,
but this year was different.

In two thousand and twenty-five,
the year of the wood snake,
I gave birth to my son.
I became a mother.
My soul knew it was time to shed.
My body broke open
at the birth canal
before my skin split at my crown
and I turned inside-out
to shed my old layers of skin,
my old layers
of being,
of identity,
of purpose and perspective,
of capacity to feel and fear and love.

Despite a significant phobia of snakes
I now deeply resonate with this creature
and the transformative processes
it undergoes,
necessary for its survival.

Becoming a mother has forced me
to shed layers of old skin
I had become so unconsciously accustomed to
that to see them discarded beside me
shocked me more
than the shedding itself.

I am forever changed
and must commit to continual shedding
to be the best mother
and person
I can be.