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FRUIT OF THE WOMB
FRUIT OB THE WOMB
She was no more the possession of a man;
No more the ardor of the big brass bed. She
Came into an entirely new virginity.
Her long flaxen hair hung down but not tossed
By glances toward the male figure. Who would
Understand the mournful look of this goddess.
She was self contained and could walk with the
God beside her and gave no attention to the the
Clamour or relatives telling her to marry.
Her lament was likened unto a contained tsunami
Where a whole world surrounded it like rivers,
Forrest and mountains would in any world.
Her inwardness was pure softness with a feeling
Arising like petals touching petals and like eyelids
Blinking in anticipation of softer ambience.
To contain oneself is to transform the world outside;
Where all the strong attraction to guilt is disguised
Under the hard porphyry of felling unassuaged.
The darkness of this world at nightfall is but
A symbol of a world contained in some unknown
Gestation of a woman in waiting to bear fruit
