Dedicated to my daughter, Amaya who I birthed stillborn just short of 24 weeks.
Loved ones shy away from the trauma,
As I yearn it,
consciously, immersing my entire self into the detail of your dying birth,
In an unashamed attempt, to keep your memory alive.
During my current days.
Each day, a witness to the rising sun,
I crave you, cheated,
Without you, my arms ache.
Its a lonely place.
My mind.
Talk, they say, just for a limited time.
So we can all get on.
Will you listen, hear me, again ?
Or sit exhausted, tired of the same.
Devastated I have to leave you behind, as I live life.
With each laboured step,
and the intensity of a shattered mind & body,
I desperately miss you with each passing day.
I try with tiny movements,
to rebuild,
gain strength so I may really live again.
Yet in truth,
my reality remains,
a tortured soul,
that periodically rises to be pacified again,
surviving with her memories,
tamed restlessness,
which can only be settled by the joining of our souls.
But we need to wait,
So I can live a life worthy to be referred as your mother,
For the sake of your brother,
I will remain,
In the company of my miracle on this earth,
Joining you, only when my time here, is truly done.
