GRIEF Poem: Spring Thaw, by Johnny Tundish

I wished it had been mine. Jealous of her and her
choice, walking out of the clinic together. I can
never carry, infertile, sterile, barren, wombless. Can
never decide to terminate, reduce, eliminate, abort.
A team of men with their heads and faces covered
rode in the field nearby on mowers, with a hum.
The doctors had been so sweet, she had felt
nothing. And now not empty, but light, the broadest
smile on her face and in her eyes. The sun is a little
above the horizon and the dew is still in the air (and
on our shoes) as we leave the sidewalk to stand
along the river, whose water is high right now with
snowmelt.

-Spring Thaw

Author: poetryfest

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