Two Poems
by Megan Patterson-Brown

by Megan Patterson-Brown

Some days now I don't cry at all,
and those days I think perhaps I have
grown beyond the grief --

Then, suddenly, something fleeting --
dancing prisms reflected on the ceiling --
remind me in a flash flood of feeling

of that soul I already loved intimately
in my dreambody, that promise unfulfilled --

My heart lurches, scrambles for cover
floodgates open
indescribable depths of loss
downpour in searing shards --

Vain attempt to nip
that wrenching pain
in the bud (just as the life
that touched down
and flourished briefly in my womb
was nipped
in the bud...)

How long am I allowed
to Grieve I wonder?
Is it permissible
to feel This Much

After all, they say, it is nature's way
and I am not the only loser by far --

And yet my sorrow
doesn't Obey
or ask
polite Permission

It is there, prancing,
fresh as the day
our dream
was felled --

Who knows,
maybe it will remain long
after new promises
take root and
blossom --

Maybe it has been
all along...

It's Not Viable
by Megan Patterson-Brown

-- Blindsided -- I hurtle down from
extreme heights of eager anticipation
to crushing bewilderment in a flash
-- I can't believe what I am hearing --
Not viable -- what do you mean?!?

Surely Not this joy-life nurtured every day
in my heart and mind and body and soul, this
precious secret held with smug tenderness --
not viable? Fetal demise? Blighted Ovum?

I now know the meaning of the word Blight --
it is one of those words that make tears taste metallic streams of
mercury running down my face, rivers of blood from the womb, searing
pain through both sides --

Blight is like Crucifixion,
except you get to stay alive with the pain.

Editor's Note
Many thanks to Susan Mello for bringing Megan's work to our attention. Many thanks to Megan for sharing with all our Kota readers.

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