Anne Altamore

The longing, the weeping,
The endless nights of soul-destroying wondering.
Why me?
The nursery never built,
The cradle never bought,
Toys unopened, never in play,
A life rewritten without my quill.

And yet, in the silence,
Among the ashes,
An ember glows,
Defying extinguishment.

Love with nowhere to go,
Finds its path,
To witness another’s pain,
To hold stories untold.

Courage does not always roar,
Sometimes it whispers:
I am here,
Come find me in your endless night.

Together we are a constellation of the childless,
But we are never less,
For we are embers glowing in the ashes,
Waiting to blaze again.

So to those who say “poor you”….

We do not want your pity,
Do not try to silence us,
The children we do not have,
Are not a whispered tragedy.

We are not your cautionary tale,
We are not less,
We are not lacking,
We do not need fixing.

We are strength, love, and compassion,
We are the roar of unsung lullabies,
We are childless,
And we are unapologetically us.

I still whisper, Why me?
But now I hold an answer,
I am no longer just a glowing ember,
Let me be a light in your endless night.