We can’t have children,
No, it’s true,
Another reason to add to my list:
My body isn’t enough,
I am not enough.

Except I am,
We are.

Infertility has forced me to a junction I may have otherwise ignored,
One where I have had to dig down through the branches and roots of my soul to find me,
To find what I am worth,
What I have always been worth,
I just forgot.

I was too busy listening to the noise outside instead of hearing my own voice within,
Now, I listen to the messages from the stars in my soul,
Consult the moon in my heart,
And instead of dead leaves on my branches, there is blossom,
I only wish it hadn’t taken such grief and loss to discover my courage. My worth. Myself.

Rose Green