Reader Joy submitted this piece for Word Doodlepalooza.
While I know another’s grief cannot be imagined
and I cannot claim to know the weight of choice,
of extinguishing the possibility of life within my hollow body,
I do know the pain of cutting the promise out of us.
There was a time when I let hope plant its seed in me,
visions of sprawling in the shade of its laced leaves in years to come.
There was a time I felt life blooming inside me;
I could taste the sea air where we would one day lounge,
spilling our love carelessly like children filling buckets
from the sea, their source of water never running dry.