She went by the clinic today
As consistently as she always does
Series of tests, scan and x-rays
The same seven words she receives
“We are sorry Ma. You cannot conceive.”
Scorned and detested
Chastised and condemned
The pregnant women’s laughter echoed in her ears
Their fat bellies protruding from their dresses
She envies them.
Even the hospital charts mock her.
“Woe to you oh Childless maiden!
Your breasts will never be suckled
Your laps will never bear the weight of a child”
She walks by the shore.
The sun sits in solitude like she does
And watches a family
Emptiness and loneliness course through her soul
The tears fall like a leaking tap
A drop of zygote after another.
It stalks her like a secret lover.
There is a name for her- Barren!