Monday, 21 January 2013


I sit here weeping
Weeping about a pain known only to womanhood
I gaze at the son playing at my feet
And I feel deep shame for what I feel
Did’nt I cry before God and man
To be given a chance to be a mother?
Did’nt I beg and cried for a son?
Why then do I feel empty now?
Why do I despise this great man i solemnly swore to adore?
Because of a priceless gift I could never give him?
My heart twists with envy, every time i hear a mother sooth a crying child,
I feel a tug deep within me
Everytime I see a mother holding the child to her bossom,
To what end is my beautiful breast
If it will never nurse?
To what value is my toned midriff
If it can never carry a child?
Why do I feel this way when I have a son?
I ask everyday?
How can I long so much for something foreign?
Why can’t I just be content?
Why can I never feel what my heart yearns for?
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