Abandoned home

It isn't just just my eyes that have been crying, my uterus too. We're crying the missing of you, the heart too, so sad, all the body quivering and grieving. Little girl how hard it has been this getting used to being without you thing. Those many goodbyes. This body that had once housed you, made you, grew you, longs for you. This body that held you, that nourished you, that nurtured you, misses you. I can shush my nagging mind, I can console my achy heart, but speaking to my mourning womb seems to be of utmost difficulty. I don't know how to begin, I don't know where it would end, what's to hold on to, what to let go of, what to keep. It seems to be doing its own thing since you left, the bleeding is different, the cycles are out of whack, the pains so new, the aching, the longing, the missing. I haven't begun to understand its language yet. Do you ever call it home? Does it still disgust you when you think where you came from? How are you treating your own body little woman? Has it gotten to you yet, the interconnectedness of it all, or are you still ego tripping like everybody else? I can say whatever I want now, you can't stop me. You're just as unconscious as everybody else. I weep, for you, for myself, for humanity. Then I shut myself up, get up, and work.