Try Again
inhale. exhale.
rise. fall. rise again.
flow in. flow out.
suck in. hiss out.
collapse in. cry out.
why is creation so hard?
it crushes soul and flesh into
such a small space, a womb, to make a new form life.
why should she choose between motherhood and her life before,
her youth,
her dreams,
her body.
but the choice is false; the lies are not hers but theirs.
why should it be on the woman
to create life all alone,
to bear the loss of an unborn child
alone in her body,
told that it was something she did wrong
to make the soul flee the body she was building for it.
(these stories they never say aloud,
they know more devastating ways to deliver them
directly to her heart.)
even as she swallows these stories fed to her by the wounds of others,
even as her desire aches to see her descendant smiling from her arms,
even as she grieves the truth that she will never know the little one lost,
the mother prepares to try again.
Written in March 2024
This poem is dedicated to the millions of women who experience pregnancy loss and, even so, birth incredible life into the world.
Maren Madalyn, Education Freelance Writer & Strategist 