Corridor Of Nothing Menopause

Agh! Oh how I burn,
for that which will never be mine.
Shivering thin branch, me.
My forebearers weep.

Agh! Oh how I burn,
for the corridor is long and black.
Lined with closed doors,
a crisp light around their edge,
voices ever beyond.
My forebearers weep.

God! Where are you?!

There was no answer.