Pamela, 52

Meet Pamela…

“Loss”

Women are supposed to give birth

Therein lies their worth

Ultimate femininity

Expanding the human race

Leaving a piece of me

Forever multiplied in someone else

Infinity in the soft soil of a womb

Me

22 years old

Sentenced to life

Sentenced to be barren

My body a dry desert

Oh, child of my womb

I sometimes swear I feel your heartbeat

Your restless soul move

I see you in my dreams

A little girl

Ribbons the colors of cotton candy.

My baby girl

Trapped within me forever

Serving life in the prison of my womb.

I even named you

Epiphany

My awakening to womanhood

But I am just a girl

Never a woman

If I can’t let you out.

The emptiness taunts me

Like a bully on a playground

“You’ll never be truly feminine!”

Half a woman

An unfinished piece of art.

Begging the sculptor to complete me.

“Body”

You locked up my body, but you’ll never own me.

You gave me a number so you could count me every day, while you do everything to remind me that I no longer count.

While you were caging me in and tightening the locks, my mind struggled free. My spirit soared past the fences and wall, and left you behind.

My body remains locked up, but you will never have my soul.

I am free because I will not let you confine my mind.

While you were walling me in, I was walling you out.

Your man-made fortress is no match for the one I constructed around my heart, mind, and soul.

All your attempts to break in, damage me, demean me, derail me, and defeat me are futile. I decided long ago to never grant you entry.

Like mad scientists in a lonely lab, you concoct potions to bring about my demise.

Your mistake is that you never counted on the resiliency of my spirit.

I turned your hate into love, and emptied my pain into a river of good.

While you plotted to kill me, I planned to live.

The struggle rages on; I can never rest.

You are a relentless enemy, lurking and stalking, but I am a fierce warrior.

You may have my body, but you will never own my soul.