Do you know it?
Do you know us?
Do you know us?
What we know of you
came from a few well-placed questions
and one difficult talk.
At 22 I learned the strength of a woman
whose whole life
was nurturing, caring, loving.
She gave up after you, the youngest,
at the doctor’s orders
and because the pain of bearing you
only to lose you
before you could meet the world
was unbearable,
even for her diamond heart.
So, when peering eyes and idle minds
combine,
look me in the face,
laugh,
and tell me I have “siblings to spare,”
I think of you.
I think of how you had to leave us.
I wonder whether you are “sister” or
“brother.”
I imagine your weightless drift through
the galaxies
and what you would have done
in our physical realm,
had you stayed to know it.
Surely, you weren’t a “spare?”
For you were in the room
when we played pretend as sibling pairs
and one was left alone.
You are in the room
as I look for the source of the present absence
though all nine of us are clearly here.
You will be in the room,
forever,
hanging onto strings of notes and chords
as we nine harmonize with past sorrows
and future dreams,
to the tune of our plucking
and strumming hands.
This free-verse poem is very dear to me. While this poem fits seamlessly into my project's theme, I took this opportunity to raise awareness about miscarriages and the very real pain that's caused by the passing of a semi-formed human being. Many mothers face the burden of mourning alone, and I hope that one day that will change so that they can mourn for what almost was without feeling shamed and alone. There were two known miscarriaged children in my family, and I try to remember them, because I strongly feel that they are worth remembering. There are gorier details that I thought about sharing so that the reader gets a true sense of the tragedy, but I needed to respect the privacy of my mother and other individuals in my life. My hope for this poem is that it gives a new perspective to those who may never have thought about how their comments, such as, "You have SO many children!" can bring to mind some very painful memories.
ReplyDeleteThis image was created by me using PicsArt.
ReplyDeletethis one got me. i always feel that twinge of guilt because I wanted my babe, but have so many lively little blessings right? should I grieve? do I have the right to say her name? No spare children, a life is a life no matter how small. I still cry sometimes that there isn't a sixth set of feet. That my girl doesn't have a big sister. someone to share with, fight with, cry with, snatch clothes from...
ReplyDeleteI can't believe I never saw this until now.
DeleteI absolutely hate the lack of knowledge that comes with miscarriages. So many people don't understand the very real heartache that happens. I don't even understand it myself, but I have focused my empathy on it many times because I am fortunate enough to have never felt that pain.
Having heard only a handful of stories and, alternatively, a handful of snide remarks about miscarriages, I felt a need to address the subject. No one should have to feel guilt for missing a person who never got to experience life.
Thankfully, we will one day meet them all. And what a great day it will be.