I cannot help but be what I would not:
A river raging reckless through our love;
But anger is the closest thing I've got
To what far more aggrieved must in me move.
I know quite well that I'm not being fair:
You could not help but be untimely gone.
But unlike you, I could not be but there
To feel our child go dead within my womb.
How you are like the wind, and I the earth
That bears the seed you scatter on your way!
Mine alone the brutal joys of birth;
Yours alone the choice to go or stay.
Despite our love, despite your sympathy,
I know that I in this alone must be.