The child grew in her
\nlike a love song.
\nWhat grows inside her now
\nwill never be born.
\nShe sits watching her daughter,
\nmiraculous,
\nremembering how the girl
\nquickened in her womb.
\nHow the days were measured
\nby the earth movement of her soul,
\nbulging like a tide
\nwithin her belly,
\nmysterious, holy, close.<\/p>\n
Now she prays the cells do not divide.
\nThat she not be the host
\nof their random chaos.
\nFor there will be
\nno bright beloved face,
\nno smile that lightens
\nthe dreariest fatigue,
\nno voice
\nthat spills its treasure
\ninto her heart with every syllable.<\/p>\n
The inert mass has no voice,
\nno smile,
\nno face.
\nIt lives senselessly without purpose.
\nDeath in the protoplasm
\nof her breasts and spine.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
The child grew in her like a love song. What grows inside her now will never be born. She sits watching her daughter, miraculous, remembering…<\/p>\n