Ghazal for Unspoken Sorrow
What will become of us, our son resting along the line of my hip, hum.
The sweet whimper-whine his breath makes, lip pressing lip, hum.
In our half-dark, we hush hands and mouths while he’s asleep in the room,
the stretched and scarred afterbirth of my body unfolding a deep rooted hum.
Thin white milk streams from my nipples onto your chest, a praise of unspoken sorrow. My body weeps without permission, a primitive, broken hum.
A Monk said, you cannot know compassion until you love your own mother, absolutely.
If I exhaled completely, I could die from such abandon, my heart shutter-stopping hum.
Today, I light three candles, chant, Om Mani Padme Hum.
Megan, let compassion have the gravity of stone. Om Mani Padme Hum.
From Mom Egg Review Vol. 13 “Compassionate Action”
Megan Merchant is forthcoming. Her chapbook, Translucent, Sealed, is forthcoming though Dancing Girl Press. Her first full-length collection, Gravel Ghosts, is forthcoming though Glass Lyre Press. Her ﬁrst children’s book, These Words I’ve Shaped For You, is forthcoming through Philomel Books. Her future is bright. She wears shades.