Bleekly Barren
The needle pierces my skin
One millimeter at a time
The pain is not too bad anymore
I’ve felt this stab too many times
The line between pleasure and pain
Two shots a day-
Will I get what I yearn for?
Need to have this real-Need to take away this pain
MY BODY
Is not
fruitful, fertile, full
but
Barren, Bleak
What others can do so easily
Mine cannot do- even accidentally
I want my body to behave
My situation makes others feel
sick, disgusted, judgmental, or worse
Sympathy
It’s a bitter taste in other couples’ mouths
To see me and him struggling
Suck on the lemon ‒ pucker your lips and smile
Try not to show disgust ‒ Swallow down that rancid bile
Echos of
“Just keep trying.”
“It will happen.”
“Stop worrying”
“It’ll happen eventually.”
“When you stop trying, that’s when it will happen.”
“Nothing is more fulfilling in life than being a mom.”
“Life doesn’t really start until you have a baby.”
More statements reverberate
building doubt and animosity
My heart thumps, and my breath stalls
Every word is a piece of my downfall
“It will happen if it is God’s will.”
“Not every woman is meant to be a mother.”
“Maybe God doesn’t want you to have children.”
Pain and Tears
Not joy and celebrations
I get medically extracted eggs
While others get “happy accidents.”
Pills and Shots
Not cravings and milkshakes
I get penetrated, bruised skin
While others get regular ovulation and cramps
A Bodily Curse
Passed down from mother to daughter
Never had a choice
So I blindly followed
Now, but a lamb, brought to be slaughtered
My body is my vessel
But my vessel has betrayed me
My vessel should be full
But it is always empty
There’s a hole I can never fix
No matter how much I wish
Close my eyes and pray
For God to take this pain away
Pour life into me!
Don’t let me run dry!
Let me be a mother.
A piece of me and my lover.
A piece of me living forever.
Lord, hear my cry!
Your poem is a beautifully written window into your pain, desire, and anguish. I’m assuming the things people said to you in the poem were inspired by real life. I’m glad you responded with poetry and not violence; that must have been a hard choice to not slap a number of them.
Oof. Your poem could be an anthem to this pain. I particularly like your lines “Suck on the lemon ‒ pucker your lips and smile” and “Not cravings and milkshakes/I get penetrated, bruised skin..”
I can feel the pain and disappointment in the poem. I particularly like how you added others’ comments and advice showing how empty their wishes can be felt.
This is such a well written excerpt from a raw and vulnerable time in your life. I love the way you contrasted your desires and expectations versus experiences, and also gave insight to the evolution of how people interacted with you throughout your journey. Your last stanza really stood out to me as a heartbroken culmination of everything on the precipice of fulfillment unknown.
This is so powerful! I love how you included the quotes/advice from others. Many times people say what they think might help when really it hurts.
Sterba, you’ve done an incredible job as a writer with allowing your audience to share your pain despite the fact I’ve not experienced this for myself; your words and intentional lack of words allow me to liken this to the experience of watching my husband succumb to cancer. The fear is there, the frustration is there, the hope is there, the deals and pleading are there. Thank you for going to that dark place for us and for yourself. What a testimony you have for your sisters.
One of the most vulnerable yet powerful poems from the beginning of this SI cohort. Methink this helped set the tone–and open the door–for other writers in this group.