Cycle 14

If the bird isn't broken,
the world is broken all about her
like crumbs you can't assemble.

A flap of a wing
and nothing.
It may be brittle bone
or airless wind,
no sky left for stars
so they choke.

Tired bird remembers
how it felt to fly.

Flap, flap, flap
pitiful wings
again, again.

CD1 miscarriage, poem

October 5, 2011

Invisible

To me, you were born.
Your heart pounded.
You heard my voice.
You opened your eyes

and saw the dawn,
and the moon fading,
and the snow falling.

You stretched and grew,
and ran like a bird flies,
chasing sunshine with
invisible wings.

You sang loudly
off-key, and we
traveled on together.
You skinned your knees.
You laid in the grass
beneath fireworks
and held my hand.
You made me laugh.
Your heart yearned,
and your heart broke.
You ached and cried,
and lost your faith,
and gained it back again.
You let go of my hand,
but kept your wings.
And when the sun finally set,
you sang softly
off-key, and we
traveled on together.

CD1 dysfunction

Dysfunction

We got along great for a while.
You kept me happy.
You had me
Convinced
that my dream was coming true.
I fell for you or
what you offered.
Today the romance is gone.
Today
you hurt me.
And now I remember it's not
the first time.
How stupid you make me feel.
How much
Power
you have over me.
I knew that you made me
Vulnerable
and I kept you still.
I couldn't not.
We're sitting in the same room
and I can't stand to look at you.
So I keep my distance
and refuse to listen
and imagine a
Freedom
from you that will never exist.

Today, nature made a fool of me. The poem is addressed to my silly sense of hope, which (in failing) has turned me sullen.

I dwell too much on what I think I want. May I never forget how much I have (everything).

This morning, Fletcher stuck his arm up to his elbow inside the empty pregnancy test box. He waved that arm around like a robot invader from the future. His secret weapon was his disarming smile. How could I not be disarmed by him? How could anything be missing from my life?

From Sullen Girl by Fiona Apple. A classic, to me.

Days like this
I don't know what to do with myself
All day and all night
I wander the halls along the walls
And under my breath I say to myself
I need fuel to take flight
And there's too much going on
But it's calm under the waves
In the blue of my oblivion.

20w 4d vicarious

I want to sleep as he sleeps

I want to find pleasure in the ability to reach

I want to feel the textures I touch

I want to know less and see more

I want to wake up smiling

Tribute

To the baby

I was never
to meet.
To the baby
who answered
endless months
of yearning.
To the baby
whom I cherished
in every moment
of its shaky existence.
To the baby
I'll never see
never hold
never name
never know,
whose presence was,
despite its brevity,
absolute.
To the baby
I still
one year later
feel.
To the baby
I couldn't save.
I love you.
Still.

August 5, 2009 (conception) - August 22, 2009 (miscarriage)

basal body temperature chart, baby number one

basal body temperature chart, Fletcher

13w 1d poem

under the seasons

As December waits on the doorstep
with evergreens and twinkling lights,
and the family gathers sharing love,
I will take care of you.

As January stretches its chilly fingers
bringing whisps and banks of snow,
and we huddle together for warmth,
I will take care of you.

As February blows its bitter winds
dragging on the lasting winter cold,
and we bundle our coats to endure it,
I will take care of you.

As March shines its bright, golden sun
off the crystal morning frost and dew,
and we breathe the crisp air eagerly,
I will take care of you.

As April brings the year's first flowers
budding from the cool, damp earth,
and we wake to Easter's yellow morning,
I will take care of you.

As May dawns warm, soft, and glowing,
bringing spring's color and texture to life,
and we finally hold you in our arms,
I will take care of you.

As the changing seasons change you
with darkness and pain, and love and light,
and we watch as you discover this life,
I will love you.

5 weeks prose

10 Questions on the Nature of Love

Did I love you or an idea?
Could love of an idea go this deep, hurt this much?
Can love repressed ever recover fully?
Will the smiles from a world before loss return?

Why has love for the second not replaced love for the first?

Are you barely alive, or life at its most perfect and infallible state?
Do I know you or imagine only?
Can not knowing the details of your personality not stand in the way?
In what moment will you love?
How can arms feel empty that have not yet been full?

4w 1d poem

breach

In this moment, the atmosphere stirs.
Rainclouds whisper, tracing the shape
of the bulbous earth, at every horizon beginning
and pressing out into the galaxy,
a glass bowl overturned.

The air moves through me.
The grass shivers and breathes beneath me.
The depth of the sky is breached
by the reach of my seeking hand as I
cull a single star to be my own.

In this moment, the atmosphere drifts.
I lay still and quiet as it moves,
folding my hands like a prayer
over my fragile, grounded star
while tomorrow stretches across the glass sky.

CD11 poem

Suspend

I staked my life
On the rising of the sun

Running full on eastbound
Winds and waters unnoticed
The faster to see it

Until
Breath heaving, heart pounding
I dove, elated, into the blaze

Love spread
Unstoppable in the fire

Together we rose
The sun and I, suspended
Into the purest sky

When the firmament began to tilt
I struggled to hold on
To what couldn’t be held

The sun sizzled and cracked.
The world in ash
Went black

Existence only remained
Without fire or
Direction

Suspended
Like smoke

July 17, 2009 poem

I thought the moment we started trying for a child would be the beginning of the rest of our lives. It was the beginning of failure, a cycle so vicious and draining that I wonder how I’m supposed to survive this despair.

Andy’s wishes to hold off for a few years were supposed to be the only obstacle. Five months after our decision finally to have a child, and I’m still screaming.

heartbeat

wanting something I can’t have
wishing for something just out of reach
there, so close
around me everywhere I go
pressing at my thoughts
with me in every heartbeat
then I think this is it, I finally have it
and the dream pulses with life and love and promise and future
but I blink
I look around me
and it’s gone
the phantom vanishes, taking all life and hope with it
taking the heartbeat
and leaving an empty chest

Dec. 12, 2008 poem

Ghost

Dreaming, I saw the bassinet and
heard the loud cries. A baby, a ghost,
softly swaddled in white cotton and
so real I sat up and
reached for him or
her to give comfort in the night.

My arms fell. I was alone, and
in the great absence,
Empty conceived Grief.

But in bed, holding the infant in my arm, I knew
Love in condensed form
so beautiful it couldn’t be real but
was. Or would be in a millennium
unless Grief came to term.

Dec. 11, 2008 poem

In the Wait

In the wait
as if perched on a branch
wings trapped to my sides
wishing one swift wind
would carry me
into my life
unnaturally