Missed Conceptions.

A poem about finding then losing a wee little soul…

Missed Conceptions.

You get used to the tears and the swinging of moods
The strange and bizarre combinations of foods
Being told your a bollox around ten times a day
Then ten more that she loves you and to ne’er go away.
For the woman with child’s a formidable beast
She loves you then hates you , both famine and feast
For your child grows inside her , she carries it around
And its hard to believe and to get your head round
But then you accept it and it all becomes clear
What the secret of life is and how we all got here
No longer a secret no more wondering why
No need any more to gaze up at the skies
Instead , look at your feet, feel the earth there beneath
Feel your babe in her belly in her womb there asleep
Feel the grief and the joy , see the future with fear
For your baby holds on by the thread of a hair…
So you give up the booze and the fags and the dope
You might even start praying again to the pope
For Jah he is there when you start to lose hope
When the midwife she frowns at her scans and her scopes.
Take your woman’s hand, tell her everything’s grand
We still have the few acres of forestry land
And we still have each other and that’s all that matters
Our dream is not over and laying in tatters
Then the nurse she looks and her gaze is confirming
That the baby inside her no longer is squirming
And at sometime on Wednesday he said enough was enough
Probably didn’t care for all this recessionary stuff
He decided to leave this time didn’t suit
But no matter it proves that this womb it bears fruit.
And its practice makes perfect , isn’t that what they say
And persistence not talent that wins out the day
Maybe next time the wee soul will choose on to stay
Where we’ll love them and mind them in every which way.

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