this creek cannot flow
heat and sun drink it
to a series of shallow ponds
dammed by rocks
& today
this body is like that chain
of dying & drying water
ovaries frantically blooming eggs
their children
before they die and dry too
& the whole body mourns
this fruitless release
every ovulation
for five years
a knife twist
in the bowl of my hips
& dullness of breasts
aching to feed
the body is ignorant
of what the brain knows
& weeps
because of it
Susan Daniels Poetry 
so sad and poignant susan
Thank you Kyle. Odd, too. I really don’t want any more babies, but apparently my body does. Damned biology.
I love that last stanza.
Maybe the brain is senseless to joy? I wonder about that sometimes.
Thanks so much, Jeremy! I think perhaps the brain is senseless to joy, if we are differentiating between brain and mind.
No, woman, no cry! Life changes. one does not challenge one’s personal god to a wrestling match!
Hi, Noel–no tears. Just what came to me by a thirsty creek…
If you want the backstory, and it’s not too much “girl stuff” for you–you can read below 🙂
Damn. *like*
This one has some backstory to it…I was in my early 20s, and talking to a woman I knew–she was in her midforties. She was telling me her eggs were dying and her body mourned with each cycle. The image stuck with me, although I didn’t really “get” her at the time. Interestingly enough, I have “gotten” her ever since I had my tubes tied, back in 2006, after Aryn was born…It is almost as if my body somehow knows it is wasting every ovulation and makes me pay for it. Somehow going to the creek today triggered this memory 🙂
Oh Lord…my hot flash is crying. damn sfam! so beautiful
Thanks, babe. Have not had one of those yet, my sympathies–think I am about 5 years from my first, but who knows?
Tenderly sad~ I still believe your understanding of such losses or, postponing until Christ returns has created in you deeper empathy in viewpoint and definitely in your writing ~ Blessings Friend
Deb–thanks so much. Yes, faith shines through in the end 🙂
After reading the last novel of Haruki Murakami “1q84”, I was given a glimpse of the ovulation process better than the biology books I have read. For some reason, I still remember that there are 400 eggs available for women and this poem just brought back that fact to me.
that is really interesting–never knew that.