by Dawn Fryauff
No life bears forth from this desert.
No seed takes root in this place.
Be fruitful and multiply is
Not
A promise, but instead
A command.
Unfulfilled;
My failure punctuated
Monthly by
Deep contractions of longing
Birthing sand and scorched seed
From this withered waste of a womb
Hollow within a body
Expanded only by gluttony.
No refreshment flows from these springs.
Ashes and dust fill the fleshy bags atop
This chest once
Desperately beaten
In grief.
Jeremiah spoke of plans for
Hope and a future.
Though I see no future.
I see only
Desert.
Category: Poetry, SNHU Creative Writing, SNHU online creative writing, SNHU Student