Love of the moss
grows shyly for the rock
With the rock nothing to flaunt
Whispers and sheds misty tears

Woods shun the rock
But the moss dares it
Giving the green cushion
and the glisten it longs

Such is the extravagance of the moss
The green blanket of the Eskimo
For the moss will give the rock buds
for it to taste the mist of dawn

Shrubs and thickets will envy
but embrace their despise
Winds swipe the shrubs
The moss nestled against the rock
Hugs, sticks and vows
Till man do us apart.

September 2023

I lay my hands over the rot
concealed within my belly
and imagine instead
I am ripe with a husband's love,
feeling for the beating warmth
of a life beginning inside
my desolate womb.
I await constantly
the trial of my womanly worth;
this man may be my judge.

©Isobel G.     15.02.2022

And I sat on the shore
Watching the families
The mothers greatness and deep love
Fathers fountains of knowledge and abundance of affection

And I wondered

What if I'd have been chosen
To be a mother
To care for a child
My child
A million times more than I'd ever cared for myself

What if the mountains had realised that I too was strong enough of heart
Brave enough of soul
Overflowing with courage of the ocean
Capable to create a bond
Never to be broken

What if I'd been gifted a child
A moment so precious, tender
Instead of the loss
Empty womb
Dark spaces
Always checking
what I may have forgotten
something missing
Never awoken

I've learnt to catch the water from my eyes
and replenish the sea
Strong tears are needed
For the heart to be free

Never knowing is destruction
Always wondering is pain
Emptiness is darkness
But I've learnt to smile
In these moments of rain

How will I ever be a mom
When my baby maker is as broken
As this dark heart?
What an unfair world

There is a particular cruelty
in the coming and going
of the monthly curse
in the heart of the barren.

A punishment
of gore and pain
to remind me of my body’s
inhospitable nature
and all it’s emptiness.

A never failing arrival,
always on time
like the train,
but still a shock,
like stumbling upon
a crime scene.

I’ll never make peace with it.