Three Years I held it in Dark clouds growing bigger and bigger Threatening to burst out of me Like a hurricane in September Three chromosomes where there should be two Should be are the words we shouldn’t say Instead our silence fills the empty spaces until there’s no air left to breathe Gasping I unravel Spitting words out I would take back But the storm has come And it is raining fire in our home Everything left unsaid catches like gasoline Creating supernova explosions that become Invisible galaxies around us An unnavigable universe better left unexplored Everyone grieves in their own way My grief is like a knife I stab myself with over and over Until there is no blood left to pour Hollowed out of blood and storm I am merely a shadow being as I turn now to you Knife wielded uncertainly As I contemplate where to stab first I wonder if our grief will mingle In the way that we have forgotten ourselves Blood and ash and tears Intertwined, a living being become one Shall we take her then to the river of sorrow And push her in until there is nothing left of her Will there be anything left of us then To hold on to in this darkness Quickly I strike with unwarranted vengeance Your careful countenance crumbles for just a moment For one second we truly see one another Lit up by the lightning of the storm you unleash Ash rains down on what’s left of me Covering me until I’m grey as a statue Tears mix with ash cementing my face Into a semblance of forced content Now it is over and we can go back to pretending That everything is just fine As you rush off to your appointment And I sit down to write a poem about it
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April 2022
AuthorSince becoming a mom to a little boy with Trisomy 21 I have written a lot about Down syndrome and disabilities. I am a storyteller, wife and mom to a teen and a toddler. Life is busy! Categories
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