The Pregnancy Thief

Poetaster (noun): A person who writes inferior poetry

Ignorance was the first to flee
Soon all else was stripped from me

Doctor says: It’s just bad luck
Ah, so you don’t give a f*ck?

No big deal
It happens a lot
One in four
How many more?

The leaves change colour
Other kids grow bigger
New dreams are spoken
Old terrors awoken

“Next time”
Was not fine

The pregnancy thief
Led to yet more grief

Families expanding
While we still wait
Everything keeps going
Newer bumps now growing

The fire burns bright
Rage overruling
Ugly thoughts creeping in
Seeping up through the skin

“At least”
Stole any semblance of my peace

“What if?” Did no good
Robbed me of my motherhood

“Silver linings”
Fooled us into trying

But “third time lucky” was not a cinch
Just another life, cruelly pinched

Completely disarmed
The thief leaves me pleading
Though no more concessions to make
Nor hope left to take

The thief, he has won
So little remains
Walls are worn thin
Barren within

Though they are long gone
Pilfered all I had to offer
It’s me that’s stranded here
The injustice ever near

Only the fear remains
Here we are again

It feels safer to sit still
To shut out the world
To stay where we are
To not dream too far

The thief is still prowling
And my heart? It’s still howling

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(2) Comments

  1. Anj, this is beautiful. You really ought to write a book, full of ponderings and poetry. You’ve a knack. It was a really touching way to portray your journey, and the thoughtless responses that people make xxx

  2. Karen Palmer says:

    It’s great! – a ‘light’ format that communicates something very profound and powerful. Definitely a poem! xx

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