I never could decide upon a name.
Always she was like a myth
Even as she was coming true.
I still feel her,
Restless, round and round,
Like a dog, circling
To find the right position.
Don’t think I wasn’t grateful.
I was. Even for a chance
To have a chance.
Maybe it was the Tabasco, or…
Who knows why a baby breathes
And then deflates into
Anonymity forever,
As though the very air were poison.
I’ll never know her.
Whoever she was, she was restless,
A renegade embryo.
Unforgettable,
Maybe only to the body that carried her,
But unforgettable nevertheless.
3 comments:
oh, concetta, what a stirring expression of a deeply personal experience. your writing is beautiful as you bring us into what you feel....
Oh Concetta, so sorry, darling girl. I have been there too.
Ah well. The intervening years don't dim the feelings.
MM, reading about your Thanksgiving story about your Skylar made me think about this time. Thanks.
DC, thanks for your kind words as well. I'm thrilled that you both enjoy my words and the feelings underneath them.
Even so, I'm overwhelmingly happy now. Amazing to want something so badly, not get it, and to have a happy ending anyway!
Hugs - C
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