My eyes well up with tears. How many days turned to months turned to years will I kneel and weep pressing my hands to my empty womb rocking on my heels? Pleading with cruel fate "send me a living child?" My womb weeps bright blood tears as I feel my youth slip away Moon after moon cycle after cycle month after month year after long year My grief feels indescribable unendurable mourning a child conceived and lost conceived and lost again Now, not yet conceived only wished for, dreamed of, prayed for. Moon months, cycle songs, lovemaking, babylonging. These are the things that define my womanhood Six excruciating years of eternal emptiness years defined by the Moon By blood By hope and by tears












