He doesn't speak, the newborn? Why his entire being shouts out, "Don't touch me! Don't touch me!" And yet at the same time, imploringly, begging, "Don't leave me! Don't leave me!" This is birth. This is the torture, the Calvary. |
These feet which kick furiously, legs which bend in to protect a tender stomach. This flesh which is but a mass of spasms, starts and shakes. |
These hands which stretch out, implore, beg, then rise to the head in a gesture of calamity. |
This howling mouth, this head which rolls back and tries to escape. |
This tragic brow, these closed eyes, eyebrows raised and knotted. |
Yes, hell exists. It is not a fairy tale. One indeed burns there. This hell is not at the end of life. It is here. At the beginning. Hell is what the infant must experience before he gets to us. |