I was not ready

I wasn't ready.
I wasn't ready when you came.

We clattered over sleeping policemen in the dark,
Shocking jolts spaced 3 minutes a part
That led us to the bright strip lights of a city that never sleeps.

They were not ready when I came,
But tutted, showed me the bed and shut the door.
My brain in my back, my hips,
The wiring no longer routed to my lips,
I dumbly rocked.  
Breathe in, breathe out.

As if to master the storm.

With one hand stretched down
To your heavy descent,
An engulfing wave broke about me
"Why did you buzz?" An irritated tone.

"Clean yourself up"

Desperately I held on,
With hands and knees on the cool bathroom floor,
Not here, not here.
Suddenly running, half naked, down the corridor,
An animal seeking safety.

Away from the fluorescence, floating by lamplight.
Time lost its meaning.
Suspended in a never- ending moment
But in the darkness I could bare it.

You shot out like a cork
Which had been held by the cradle
In a vessel shaken for too long.
Uncontrolled, terrifying.

She swore when she saw the head.
"You didn't make a sound" she said.
Twisting and swimming into your father's arms,
You were a fish in water,
And laid on my chest.

But I was not ready.