Here’s a poem I recently wrote as I process grief in my secondary infertility journey. It’s called “What’s The Resurrection to a Dream Deferred?”
What’s the resurrection
to a dream deferred?
will we see unanswered prayers
raised from the grave?
will dead hope levitate
from pockets of abyss
in our souls, as smoke
rises, transforming before
our eyes
into grander colors, sounds, shapes
we never could’ve thought to pray—
too glorious to imagine?
too much to contain?
will we never forget
all you DIDN’T do
with our earnest vows
and yet somehow
proclaim,
“He doeth all things well.”?
