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Infertility
Poetry
--Vicki Caswell, guest of ASPIRE2
This womb is cavernous.
This womb is lonely.
No child will form there, grow there, be
nourished there.
No heartbeat, no movement.
This womb is unused, woeful.
This womb is mine, barren.
His tomb is cavernous.
His tomb is empty.
No body will decay there, rot there,
decompose there.
His tomb is silent.
Except for angels, an announcement, a
question:
“Why do you look for the living among the
dead?”
I pondered this as I pondered the deadness
of my womb…
Leave the womb, and weep no more.
Rise and seek the Living Lord!
Do not mourn this barren womb.
Celebrate the Empty Tomb!
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