Inspiration

by Rhonda Parrish

Her thighs are spread

And quivering—

Her forehead wet with sweat.

Her eyes are wild

With pain and joy,

Her tears have long been spent.

From her womb

Is ripped, again,

A child of immortal blood.

Smiling, she mourns his loss.

Silently, sees him go

And lays back upon her bed—

Her heart both light and low.

A feeling spreads throughout her

Of joy and bitter pain

As yet another is conceived

And the process starts again.

Each child from her is stolen

And given to the world

And while some find acceptance,

Most will go unheard.

And yet, she does not weary,

Nor worry for their fate;

But rather, births them proudly

With a smile upon her face.

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