you, like Hannah, may have made a pilgrimage this morning
the year-after-year heaviness in your heart
and lightness in your womb
taunting like a rival wife
you see new life everywhere
vivid and easy for the collective happy woman
but for you, it’s ‘look but don’t touch’
a roped-off statue in this oft-traveled museum
you, like Hannah, may have burst into tears in the house of the Lord
like Rachel, may have pleaded, “Give me children, or I will die”
or like Sarah, laughed cynically to kill the sparks of hope fighting for flame
you, like me, may have sprinted toward contentment
viewing God as a coach with arms crossed, ready to shame your race
shouting that longing only slows you down and hurts the team–
after all these years, how are you still the weakest link?
you may have believed those lies,
those snakish whispers that your desire disappoints Him
that your sadness means you love Him less
but you, like Hannah, can collapse at His feet
bruised by the weight of year-after-year
you can scream and rail and weep in seeming drunkenness
that humans may question, but He embraces
that embrace is the truth of no condemnation
only father-comfort
He will hold you as you weep
without hurry or haste
He will hold you, He will hold you
as you weep
Hope Unyielding 