January

In January many years ago

my son was born.

In the labour ward

when giving birth to him

my wife nearly died.

Iain was delivered in a

brutal, primitive, lightning-speed

emergency operation.

he was rushed away

to an incubator

not breathing

not stirring.

we found out weeks later

that he had an APGAR score

of one out of ten

APGAR, being the measure

of ten signs of life at birth.

So I'm standing in my wife Christine's blood

which covered most of the floor of the room

she unconscious

her fatally low blood pressure indicators

slowly rising again

because of the three litres of plasma

being pumped into her

after a nurse had sprinted out of the room

to get it for her,

my son somewhere else,

to all intents and purpose

dead

as far as my eyes could judge

then he is returned in an incubator,

alive

and my wife comes out of her slumber

alive

then I'm standing there

holding him

alive and not blue

and it's January

and it is always January in my heart

because despite the cold, 

the dark, 

the wind, 

the rain

this is the month when the miracle of life

presented itself

and imprinted its message

through every cell in my body

and the angels in that room

who saved my wife and son

that day

remain forever in my heart

January folk

who brought warmth and light

into the deepest darkness

in two souls

who almost slipped from my failing existence.