Not a Maiden or a Crone

I am empty with child,
A forgotten mother,
A sad barren soul
That aches to be woman
Again with a nest gone dry
Before it was time to wean.
Too young to be the crone,
But was barely a maiden.
Two eggs half stolen
By law or sickened rights,
I hold my womb tenderly
As it once carried fragile life.



6 Replies to “Not a Maiden or a Crone”

  1. 😔 An exceedingly sad write. I miscarried at least once (likely more) during the twelve years my husband and I struggled to have a child. At last, after twelve years and at the age of forty, I was miraculously able to bring our child into the world. But, I remember the sadness every month I wasn’t pregnant for all those long years. I know the broken sense of feeling not good enough, of feeling not woman enough… of thinking myself unworthy to give birth to a child. That pregnancy that got far enough for me to know I was pregnant, then to miscarry… it shattered me. I recall crushing sense that the world expected me not to mourn a miscarriage, to just move on and forget it.

    Reading your poem, I mourned with you for your loss.

    Liked by 2 people

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