from within my belly

My hands touch my belly sometimes. For the most part, flat and wanting sex. Careless and free, wishing to be sunny side up towards the sun. A friend called me up tonight and told me his lover was pregnant. He was happy and I was happy for him - to hear his proud voice, his provisional plans and aspirations. I could already envision those smiling eyes, slight with the burden of uncertainty and excitement.

Suddenly I was terrified.
The love-making. The result of their musky, passionate-filled coitus was this... pride? I'm so used to the pride of eyes-wide shut orgasms. This pride was different. It incited an overwhelming sense of envy on my part. Not for the baby they've created but...

Have I forgotten the depths of womanhood? The fine art of love and nourishment? I've been chasing waves in the sand for years yet I've never let my feet stop and sink into the warmth of being stationary.