Fiddler on the Roof

The fetus that never
Birthed in my womb;
The infant that never
Suckled at my breast;
The child whose warmth
I never held—

Why then did it
Turn my milk rancid?
And let my innards
Bleed with putrid
Rotting flesh?

Let my dammed up heart
Flow freely my Lord,
Let it shower its light
Upon darkened nooks
That never knew love,
Never felt a kiss, and
Never slept within encircling arms—

Let this wounded heart
Drain all its unrequited love;
And all its unwanted warmth
Upon damned souls
Who crave it instead...