Daughter of daughter
A phone call.
Now aching arms ironing,
smoothing wrinkles
long to hold
son of son close
to my heart
for solace.
My heart hurts
for daughter
and daughter of daughter
yet to be born –
yet even begun
her tentative life.
Will this be my gift
to her generation?
Inherited loss of babies not formed
and babies lost
and babies longed for.
Will she pay the cost
of barrenness?
I will hold you tomorrow
Daughter.
I will wipe our tears
and hold our pain
in my aching ironing,
our empty arms.
My mother’s will
will not spare you this pain.
It’s your journey to make.
But my arms will hold you
again and again
my heart will ache for you
smoothe you
rock you, soothe you
as we wait
for daughter of daughter.