Globular Bellies

I can't run and hide from the world
of women who are younger than me
getting married and the women who are
Younger than me with what looks like
The world growing under
The skin of their bellies
A globe that holds a child who will be held
And thought the world of and all I get to do
Is think of this and think how I haven't had
This offer of life extended to me, through me,
Extending out of me -  and how I
Try to run and hide from the women, mostly
younger, but older too, that have been blessed
In this way - perhaps it isn't a blessing since it
Comes in the disguise of puppies and kitties too
Who often grow up and aren't cute anymore, much
Like babies - and yet, there isn't anything cute
About a screaming blob of flesh who causes
Nipples to become raw and crack like your nerves
at 2:13 in the morning because it's all about them
Now - NOW - now, get up and deal with
Their s*!t - the one that hit the fan in their pants,
The diaper wrapped so lovingly around
Dimpled, ham hocks of legs, calling your name
Selfishly? to clean up the mess they made.

This is something that breaks me. Not having this,
feeling I have missed out, and am continuing to
Be ignored by God - I have left quite a few
Voice mails He just hasn't responded to... yet?...

I can't escape other people's blessings.
It feels like someone has taken a pillow case,
Filled it with broken glass and hit me
Repeatedly in the face with it...
Look what I have, that you don't?
You don't? I'm sor-
I don't know what to say -

Then don't say anything!
Just shut up and quit blushing
And gushing and ooohhing and aaaaaawwwwwing
Around me - oh right, you have the 1st Amendment
And I must respect it -

Send me to an island, alone
So I won't be exposed to life -
Being made, being lived, being had and
Not by me.

I am worn down. I don't think I could support
A life within the walls of my uterus,
I think it would be hostile because I have been
From the pain of being trapped in a reality
Not totally of my own making, but
What I have had to take/assume
Because my life isn't that bad even though
All the hopes of being a wife and creating life
I have have been dashed -
If only it could be this - kind of -
And not -'d dreams upon the rocks of heart break.

I will not be strapping on a "Baby Bjorn"
I can't close my eyes to these "miracles of life,"
I am one too - but feel a fool to have not
Crossed the threshold of the altar of marriage
In order to bear the kind of life to warrant
Not wanting to gouge my eyes out so I will
Miss out on the beauty that will continue to
Happen around me until the day I die.

My globular belly is filled with food;
That's the life I carry under my bulging shirt
Around my middle - so no more questions,
"Why aren't you married yet?" or
"Do you have children?" because the answer
Will be, until an unforeseen time, that I wish I could see,
"No - God hasn't answered those prayers.
He has seemed to put me on hold...
Maybe for eternity."