I used to wonder if these wounds would ever heal.
The pain and heartache would never leave and always felt so real.
I attempted to forget it, shoving the memories to the back of my head.
Then all of a sudden, coming from everywhere, were bitter reminders bringing back the death.
Those that acknowledged it tell me the guilt and longing will subside.
But most of my family pretend it never happened and nothing is missing from my life.
I watch as others get sympathy while they openly grieve.
As I try to shove everything back, observing in anger and disbelief.
Over a year has passed since that tragic day.
My guilt incessantly building as I struggle to deny.
That through the agony and sorrow a peace is entering in.
Saying “It’s alright.” and permitting another thought to begin.
“It’s better this way.” this voice professes.
“You need not worry yourself with those tiny ties or dresses.”
My heartache is still there, and just as unquestionable.
Every time I hear a cry or see those little toes.
It’s very confusing to mix such monsterous notions.
Yet not knowing the cause of such a malfunction.
(Unfinished/untitled poem, written around the time I became pregnant about my miscarriage on 3/30/03)
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