‘It’s God’s plan’, they say,
As I quietly unravel,
Wiping the tears discretely,
So as not to interrupt
Their conversation.
I gather memories, images
Of children I never had
Like star clusters
Sparkling in the black void.
***
‘It’s God’s plan’, they say,
As I sidestep the awkward question
About ‘family’,
As I avoid the baby aisle,
As I excuse myself
From their playdate arrangements,
As I excuse myself
From society.
***
‘It’s God’s plan’, they say,
While I hurl silent prayers
Heavenward,
Asking, hoping, wondering,
If God is still near,
If he has a plan
For this barren existence.
***
‘It’s God’s plan’, they cry,
And I wonder
How many of them
Would welcome ‘God’s plan’
If he brought such
Devastation
To their lives?
How many of them
Would reject
Their own cold comfort?
***
‘It’s God’s plan’, they say,
As I walk away.
I sit with him
In the evening light,
Revelling in his beauty,
Sensing his compassion,
Weeping together.
I revel in his sunset song,
In the rippling of the lake,
And the call of the mother duck
Rejoicing and wailing
Over her ducklings.
I revel in his plans
To shepherd me,
Not forsake me,
To love and comfort me
All the days of my life.