Fallow

[butterflydreaming]

I am the fallow ground
That does not wait for seed
Fruitless as the seasons pass me
As each one upon me lies

I am a body, sound
Though uncertain of when I bleed
Released, more-or-less monthly
From the potential of infant cries

I am a vessel, found
Filled to lip with different need
Filled with creation that spills free
Spills like the tears common to my eyes

I am a woman unbound
By the fundamental desire to breed
Focused toward another kind of progeny
A different lineage to realize

I am not with laurels crowned
Yet I do not create for greed
Compelled to let strangers see
To glimpse my soul, however unwise.