Barricaded in persistent desire
to mother her child,
her senses ruptured
like an old building collapses
in a series of controlled explosions,
so its misfortune is tamed.
Her strength truncated
with ever inflating emotional burden;
nothing could’ve stabilized her imbalances,
neither native wealth, affection,
nor faith in Almighty’s intent.
The cyclic hollowness
of day and night swelled
what time was believed to diminish.
Her child was not given
even nine months in her womb.
Her heart imploded,
but she stood between worlds, resolute,
to claim her motherhood.
For spinning was Earth’s constraint,
She didn’t surrender to it.
Collapsed, before her seed could sprout,
yet a thread tucked in her bellybutton hung.
She had to mother her child,
what if nature’s laws she must abandon?
No God can stop a Mother
To feed her (only) child (possible),
For nothing surpasses pain of a barren womb.
A cursed tomb – her heart – ached to stretch out;
she climbed on bed, tore the dark matter.
Digging nails between universes,
Constellations alignment she altered.
And transported her child from paranormal pit.
For milk isn’t for the dead,
she breastfeeds it her blood.
With this post, ends the small break I had from my first fiction in process. For those who aren’t aware, it tentatively titles Together Never. I’m in the phase of preparing its second draft, and what makes me somewhat satisfied is the realization that after continuously working for 10 months, I’m on the verge to complete it.
While I’ll not be around for awhile, you can anticipate me taking another break after I complete the second draft, before moving to the third and final one.
Till then, know that I’ll miss all your wonderful posts.