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