by Kelly Mahan
a broody hen will starve herself for 21 days
isn’t that what mothers do?
waste away
whittle her body
to nothing
its barest form
to bring forth warmth
coax out life
with potential of creating whole new existence
born from her sacrifices
her body
her love
her fear
with possibility of failure at the very thing she’s made to do
once pliant and simple
a broody hen becomes a different animal altogether
out for blood from anyone who comes too close
brutality is suddenly an impulse
she will strike out and bite the gentle hand that feeds her
protection emerges as a vital instinct
everyone and everything becomes secondary
especially herself
everyone speaks of new life in spring
soft sleepy eyes open to her
then the world for the very first time
a chance in its most pure and basic form
however just as much does not take
carefully prepared nests grow cold and quiet
newly built cribs remain unslept in
pastel painted nurseries are darkened behind closed doors
but sometimes
sometimes, nature takes hold and blooms
warmth and wet and cracking and pushing and hatching and here and alive
Kelly Mahan is a mother of three from Delavan, Wisconsin. She lives with her children, her husband, her dog, and 10 occasionally broody chickens.