It’s there, inside of me.
There is no pain, just an itch,
Growing, staying
Out of my reach,
Coarse, gritty, grinding
Itself into my body.
I want nothing more
Than to be rid of this intrusion.

Time passes. I adapt.
I’ve found a way
To hide this thing.

It’s there, inside of me,
Itch fading as pain begins,
Growing, pushing
Itself through my body.
By blood and toil,
It’s part of me now,
Secret treasure born of mere sand.


One Response to “Pearl”

  1. Written in the early 1990s. I knew someone that was pregnant and she referred to her baby as her ‘pearl’ at times, other times all she’d talk about is how she couldn’t wait for pregnancy to end. I guess I wrote this poem thinking of her baby and how precious it would be, knowing that someday she’d say all the trials of pregnancy were worth it.

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