Barren

In bits and pieces, I shed

and in secrets, I bled 

I was born barren, 

a crone once told 

throwing darts at my loins 

we lit candles, heaven was,

after all, full of answers

a conviction of a mother, 

as usual, passed down

in a smooth conveyance 

and made a nest in my heart

I was seventeen when my womb

ate my first child, did I wonder why?

for months, I was woven 

in cords affliction, so that, 

even my second umbilical cord

was severed at conception 

and weighty woes kept amassing 

did I dwell too much on presentiments

wise words of a wizen weasel

formed a girdle around my heart

a dearth womb has thrice proven

and now I believe beyond doubt

that I am —barren!