a pregnant mother waits…hopes…fears…
weary and unflagging, full of energy
and yet, so still and growing
larger with each day.
and inside her heart each quality increases…
hope and fear, expectant joy,
after all, it’s said she is expecting!
Expecting…and growing larger.
But with her hope grows hunger!
A hunger for the end of every minute waiting!
A hunger for her baby, to hold and cuddle quiet
A hunger to sing songs of love and comfort in the night.
Expecting…and growing hungry
for bread of life within her
also growing and expectant,
rising in the oven of human worth.
(other ovens hungry ate their fill
of offerings from monsters of the Breach
but this was not unnoticed by The Justice
nor beyond the scope of Mercy’s reach)
She hungers, swelling curved expectant in the night
The word becoming flesh and bone is served
a feast of human need and sorry fright
and love, devotion, faith, and truth and grace
and laughter there on each expectant face.
We…pregnant…waiting
in our weakness,
lonely lowly moments silent
They…hungry…ready
to come to us
Them with us
move in us
empty us
to satisfy us
dine with us
and hunger ever sharp and sated
all at once.
Charissa's Grace Notes 
Beautiful, Charissa. You’ve been building to these words for a few weeks now.
Thanks for seeing that lil mama!! There is a very intentional weaving of 2 ribbons, one scarlet and one gold thruout the poems called “Advent Poem: The Season of ______”
Your Christmas anthology…
OH!!!! omg *charissa makes note “Dear Diary: why didn’t I see that???”*
Moved Beyond by this:
“We…pregnant…waiting
in our weakness,
lonely lowly moments silent…”
Not for me, I know.
But I take it for myself ❤
Um…well.
Perhaps a re-knowing would be in order.
Remember, my poems operate on many levels simultaneous…and our knowing has vast overlap, yes?
For you, Sis…for you,
in hunger and loss
in loss and in longing
in longing and fulfillment
in fulfillment and expectancy
in what has been and what will be