Ahhh yes, Spring has arrived... though nothing has actually sprung yet. Geese are flocking back home and the calendar says its Spring but the earth still sleeps. I enjoy the change of seasons. *this is the part where you sit back, take a sip of your coffee or other warm beverage of choice, and reflect on the warm, sweet breezes and chirping birds of Spring* Ahhhh....
So my uterus finally did some shedding of the blood clots she has been holding onto so dearly. (That was gross. Sorry, I enjoy shock value tee hee) Now I get to have my uterus injected with dye (sarchastic "yay!") so my doctor can peer into it! Who knows what he'll find, but I picture bats flying around and cobwebs clinging to each dark corner of an empty cavern.
"ECHO!! ECHO! Echo! echo! echo ech ec e"
Maybe he can do a little dusting while he's in there... you know, a little Spring cleaning!
Though Spring is lovely, it is also the ultimate reminder (slap in the face, if you will) of the fact that I don't have children or am not "of child" (that phrase continues to crack me up). I mean, during Spring it seems as though EVERYONE and EVERYTHING is bloated and pregnant! How depressing.
I wrote a poem on this subject last year. I think I'll share it with you, whoever is reading this. A little background info: In my culture the Moon, who is considered our "grandmother", is responsible for the cycles of the women.
~Untouched~
Grandmother Moon
throws her shadows
down my cheek merging
glistening wet
Spring swells
I am
pelted
with Vernal images of
bloating streams of
Robin's tango of
mud's nourishment - Growth
prepared
Dorment I remain - A winter state
forced upon me
by fate - Branded
by chance - Unlucky
by mistake - Forgotten,
I have no choice
and She passes me by
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