Poem

I wrote this poem after finding out Clomid didn't work last month. I thought I was prepared for it not working but I guess we're never really prepared, especially with such an emotional subject. I hate the phone calls I have with my fertility nurse, even though she is kind and has never said a cross word to me. I just hate the tension, the awkwardness, hearing myself say such personal information out loud and hoping my neighbours can't hear me (irrationally). The phone call for the CD21 protesterone test result was a particularly stressful one. Unfortunately what the nurse said made me feel really concerned about the result. She sounded mystified like she couldn't understand what had happened (it can't be unusual surely) and then told me my level was 4 and it needs to be 30. Wow, I was not expecting that. I just expected to be told whether or not I'd ovulated and which dose to take next month. It really upset me hearing how low my number was. So the nurse told me she would go and speak to the doctor about a new treatment plan and I had to wait an hour to hear back. In that time I sat and cried and I felt like writing so I sat with the typewriter and wrote this poem straight out. I haven't edited it at all, I want it to just express pure feeling. It expresses my exact emotion at that moment in time and after writing it out I felt a lot lighter.

it is winter in my heart

the shadows fall

                          everywhere

isolated, my heart beats

                          quiet

a shadow of itself

without reason the clock

moves forwards

                         tick tock

the beat of a drum

i wait

for a future that may never 

                          find me

there are not answers here

every single day

                         i try 

the world waits without reason

i was told when i was young

there was a future with you 

                           child

those brazen liars

uncaring of how my heart 

                        would break

when your being was stolen

it was never certain that you

would be mine, but

it felt like the surest thing.

really i don't know now

how do you become memory

without ever being?

more cruel than an empty heart

the world betrays me

cold and unhuman, life itself feels wrong

the truth is I was meant to be

                           someone

i'm still waiting to be 

without the power to make it

i am sinking, every day deeper 

time has become a question

                           without answer

i don't understand

my world spins in silence

i have never felt

                           so quiet.