Laura Pascale Johnson

We belong to a long lineage
of grief
and longing for
what could have been,
for what is precious
to this world,
for life itself.
We are shadow to the sun,
darkness to the moon,
the presence of absence
flowing in our veins.
We beckon your pity,
your existential angst.
For without children there are no grandchildren
you think.
Who will care for us
in our old age?
Who will grieve us
and our grief?
We are your fears
unleashed
Not mothers.
Un-mothers. Others.
Yet we have seen
the beauty and the blood
of life.
Sipped its bitter herbs
squatting in the abyss
of time
itself.
We’ve seen beyond
and birthed ourselves
back.