WOMB OF MOURNING
A broken heart – that’s what I have
for the children I broke so long ago
Precious ones within my womb
Waiting to see the morning
But for them no morning came
Nights of sorrow was all they knew -
A mother so inadequate and bereft of self
Could not provide and plan the nest.
The birth canal – a canyon of death
The first to come a child of shade
Your father wanted you,
The next two only your Father knows,
But He wanted you too.
I was the one who said,
I won’t… I can’t… I don’t know how…
Your precious little bodies to hold,
To cloth and nurse somehow…
I wouldn’t hurt you if I knew you now.
I wish somehow I could see you come to me
From homes of adopted love
Where others said,
I will… I can I know how.
Somehow I’d find the words to say,
Forgive me for rejecting you.
You’re fine, children of mine,
And I love you now.
“Bertie” Roberta
Spring 1989, Portland, Oregon