Emptiness ( a poem)

Anticipating….

 

Soft kicks against my womb,

a wholesome swelling,

a radiant glow,

the feeling of life growing inside.

 

Plush stuffed animals and power pink appliqués,

Knitted receiving blankets and Winnie the Pooh pacifiers,

Graco  playpens and baby powder,

quarter-cut bananas squished between fingers,

watered by grape-flavored Pedialyte.

 

Thinking….

 

Happy thoughts of what you would look like,

how you would smell,

how your skin would feel,

how your toes would curl,

how your eyes would look into mine.

 

Wondering….

 

Will you inherit your father’s love of computers?

Will you write like me?

Will you dance gracefully like a swan or

sing a capella notes like a hummingbird?

Will you have the ability to make others laugh or

touch them in their hearts with your caring spirit?

What kind of person will you be?

 

Planning…

 

Your future, your dates, your education, your life.

Telling you my own experiences,

hoping that it will protect you from getting hurt.

But knowing in my heart you will experience

some type of pain.

 

Three months of surfing the Internet for information

on pregnancy and childbirth, ultimately dreading

the needles.  Three months of nervous excitement,

perusing shelves of books filled with baby names….

 

Jermichael—if it’s a boy, already dictated by the father-to-be.

If it is a girl….

Katherine—too plain, Imani—hmmmm—means “faith”—maybe,

Simone—sounds elegant and full of finesse, maybe

If I change the spelling, Symone…nooo……Cimone…..ahhh!!

Cymon…perfect.

 

Crying….

Because now all of that is gone.

I am like Demeter crying out

for Persephone.  But my fury

is felt within, locked up in the inner depths

of my soul.  My spirit is withered.

 

Will spring ever thrive in my womb again?

Will it be barren and cold like winter>

How can I go on living with the emptiness

left where you once breathed life?

 

My precious Cymon.

(originally written in 1998)

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