The Gathering of Others
This is dedicated with love to all who yearn for a babe, and are blessed not:
We are gathered in our Place, that sad and grey-steeped place in our Hearts. Here, where longing is shrivelled, and has become husklike, hollow as a spider's prey. Voices with no body echo here, the call from dreams that fade the colour of our realities.
In this place, we are drawn in shades of charcoal, spare and wanting fullness. Our voices hushed, as is the cry of our spirits. Eyes are lowered, in respect of the shared hungry light we would see in one another.
This is where we seek comfort, and mourn our lost hopes. This is the place that we can cry to the Heavens, "Why??". Together with the Others, whom we call 'Our sisters', we do not need to dissemble or perform.
This is the Place All-Mother gifted us with, a place no MOther is allowed, but for those who have lost their child. Here we are comforted, by hearts that understand, and grieve with us.
"Kiss an' better?"
We are the Aunts, the Step-Mothers, the Crone who never sought a mate. We have gone from Maiden to Crone, with no sojurn as Mother. All of us feel the 'lack', the feeling of not being good enough, always wondering, "Why not me?".
Here we join hands with our Sisters, and can let down the burden of awareness for a time, and rest.