Emptiness.

There was no empty crib
Just an empty womb

As if he never was

A shadow in an empty room

All I have are memories

A few keepsakes of a dream

A life lived inside me

A death inside a scream

A scar upon my belly

A chasm in my heart

A picture of my son

His face, a work of art

I want to hold and touch and feel

The clothes he never wore

I want to hear his plaintive cry

Music I’d adore

Instead, I remain empty

Hungry, anxious, grieved

As I wait to be fulfilled

The Hope I have believed.

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