We walk
on the margins. When we are young
they tell us to catch the bouquet, tell us
God has someone for us, tell us
it will be our turn next. When we despair
at the end of a long-term relationship, they tell us
the next one will be better,
the former was just training,
it’s all in God’s hands.
After a while, some of them tell us
we are too fussy,
and in those dark, silent, 2am hours of tears
we wonder if we have been.
Still later, they tell us
that single life is a good thing
we are not weighed down
with the burdens of motherhood; we can go
wherever we want, we can do
whatever we want, and God
must have work for us to do
(never mind that we ache for a child).
As time passes, they stop telling us
very much at all.
We drift further to the sidelines, we are less
an item of interest.
We are glad they no longer give us
their prescriptions for our lives;
Yet here we remain, bereft
of even the words to name this vale.
Some days we stumble
some days we hold our heads high
as we walk
we walk
on the margins.

Robyn