Wednesday, May 03, 2006
Standing at the Seashorefeeling the empty My head is concrete with the knowledge:
my son is gone -
a long six feet out of reach.
But inside my chest,
it's like standing in the ocean.
When I'm still,
the waves steal the sand
and force me to shuffle,
regain my balance,
remind myself,
lose him all over again.
Sometimes,
when I have sunk into disremembrance,
he's still here, and my breath catches
somewhere around my belly button
and waits to meet my heart
as it falls backwards into realization.
He is in everything,
everything but his crib and my arms,
and they ache
with the acceptance of
beauty and emptiness.
I close my eyes, and count
the rises of his chest, forgetting
he's gone, remembering
the warmth that reality stole.
All that's left is
the empty.
Poetry,
Acceptance,
CHD,
Congenital Heart Defects
posted by Erin @
12:52 PM
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