Untitled #1

I used to write a lot of poems back in high school, and I considered myself good at it. With that said, I decided to try my hand at writing a poem that expresses all the many emotions that I experience as a result of my struggle with infertility. I don't know how good it is, but it presents my raw feelings and thoughts, so please be considerate when commenting...

Untitled #1

It is long, this road, and hard.
So commonplace a destination, yet the easy path is barred.
I cannot see the end, or count the many branches,
or know which one will best fulfill my yearnings.
So often now, I pause and rest; reflect.
What is the nature of my regret?
Is my acceptance worthless, mere illusion;
my early arrogance exchanged for new delusions?
High hopes. False, perhaps,
yet who would choose to blame me for that lapse?
I could demand answers, or rail against fate,
Against the cold, dark universe, and the vagaries of chance.
Instead, I laugh.
Who would choose to be adrift, unknown?
Oh yes, my hubris is surely present still.
It is long, this road, and hard, and I have many miles to travel, even now.

I have many miles to travel, even now,
and many miles behind me. Looking back, I wonder how
this well-trod path ever caught me by surprise.
There is no division, no marker, no border -
just my life, my road, unwavering.
There are the twists and turns I chose,
so familiar, each one greeted with delight.
And the shadows, and the blinding, painful light,
oh, I chose those too,
trusting that my self would see me through.
How different, really, have the last miles been?
Each step, each footfall, ringing on the stones
with no dissonance.
Predictable. Expected. Acceptance of such is easy,
but without bitterness, or cynicism?
I have many miles to travel, even now, and the challenge remains unchanged.

The challenge remains, unchanged,
while I have changed beyond all recognition.
Those early days, I see reflected all around.
And where my hopes were false, my disappointment bitter,
elsewhere, I see every permutation, joy and pain alike.
They seem so shallow now.
Nothing deepens an emotion like time,
its abrasive attrition of the soul
and its healing balm.
My heart reaches out to you, walking those first steps.
I know my pain is deeper, the joys of my future greater,
and I hate myself for living that lie,
abandoning my own early emotions.
There is no pride in this wisdom, this oh-so-brief experience,
and too much truth in blissful ignorance.
The challenge remains unchanged: to learn what may be learned.

Learning what may be learned
is the only recompense I've found.
The colors and details of my dreams are sharpening
even as they fade into the dawn's reality.
Oh, I am different, stronger, and still the same as always;
all this newness was always there,
waiting to be found, or claimed.
Each and every grief is still a triumph,
still a step closer
to the road's end, to my heart, and my heart's breaking.
All life is joy, and grief, intermingled,
and growing all the brighter through adversity.
This consuming nothingness will pass,
and one day, on a different path, I'll once again
reflect upon the time I spent
learning what may be learned, along this road, so long and hard.