Wednesday, July 2, 2014

Poem: My Uterus

My Uterus


is both bombshell and shelter, a puckered-up skein with taught smile lines and stretch marks from the waves of holding and birthing her babies. Quiet now, in her strongest days she was the hammock that couldn’t break, fierce cocoon, mama within a mama. She sang soulful lullabies filled with love and sadness for she knew how the babies would go, slide into their lives and move deeper into their written or unwritten futures. Her time with them counted in months and their earthly time as long as forever will hold them.  Sometimes I hear her slack and soft wailing, then laughing at the children she believes are thriving.  Sometimes she lunges after newly-fallen eggs, capturing them in a suffocating hug, and I must deny her again and again, and it will go on like this until she admits retirement, when the eggs stop their monthly charge, and she learns a new way to grow hope. 

4 comments:

  1. I love this, Catherine. I am a mother of 5. This is so spot-on powerful. Can't say enough about how I love this.

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    1. Thank you, Joy! Coming from a mother of 5, that means a lot!

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