Don't Dream it's Over, Part 3

“While you are away

My heart comes undone

Slowly unravels

In a ball of yarn”

That’s what I guess

I would have put

On the marker

Bjork

Instead of a bible verse

Too small

To be buried

Too big to be nothing

Still

I had selected so much

The color he would come home in

The small stuffed something

That would become his favorite

Sometimes

I feel great

I forget

Bound up

In all the joy of my life

Then a sudden pang

Or a small moment

Standing by the stove

I am reminded

The thread comes loose

I feel like

I’m always forgetting something

Athena asks me

A few days home

From the beach

We are sitting on the bed with Sister

Watching “shows”

Her dark eyes

Fill with worry

“Mommy, what happened to the baby in your tummy?’

I blink at her calmly

Try to look

Like she just asked me

Why the sky is blue

We had rehearsed what to tell her

If she asked

It all runs from my mind

She waits expectantly

To stall

I say

“That’s an important question. Let’s get Daddy to help us answer it.”

Leroy comes to sit with us

We say what ever it is

That you say

She seems satisfied

With our answers

But still

Stares at me quietly

After her Daddy leaves

“But Mommy, I really wanted that baby”

I stroke her hair out of her face

“ I know sweetheart, I really wanted that baby too”

She continues

To bring him up

From time to time

So he lives a little more

In Sisters hopeful heart

She gets her Doctor kit

Says she will fix my tummy

Get baby brother out

I remind her that he can’t be gotten

This time she looks at me calmly

With the same sadness

She usually reserves for melting snowmen

“That’s right Mommy, he didn’t ever grow up, but i can’t still paint him pictures.”

You’d think her moments

Of near crushing clairvoyance

Would cause me pain

But it’s balm for the wound

He mattered to someone else

Someone had planned for him too

A future with him in it

Creeps into someone else mind

In her own small way

She is medicine

Late one night

The girls are sleeping

Daddy is singing songs

Out in the wild world

Just me and my loose threads

And two bottles of wine

One

Kind of crappy

One really excellent

Brought to us months ago

By our friend Jay

Who shares my affinity

For enjoyment

“This is one of my favorites.

Open it on a special occasion,

and let it breathe for awhile”

This feels like

The most worthy occasion

A bottle of wine could ask for

I uncork it

Pour a ceremonious sized glass

Leave it to the air

While I gather all the things

The tiny blue candle

The stick

With the bright blue lines

My hospital band

The glossy black and white “portrait”

The cork from the wine

A box

For all of it to live in

My first sip of wine

Since not being pregnant anymore

Goes down like communion

Brings the blood to my cheeks

I understand

Finally have a meager

Transfigured

Understanding

Of the wine and the blood

The bread and the body

“This do

In remembrance

Of me”

Growing up in the church

Communion was a favorite ritual

In my tumultuous childhood

The tiny cups

The tiny terrible crackers

Were a strange stability


Any larger spiritual lesson

Was lost

Even unlooked for


As the wine

Does it’s work

I realize

There’s no lesson


It’s only remembrance 

It seems

Even The Son of God

Knew

You can’t have one

Without the other

Happiness and sorrow

Woven tightly together

Until we wake

On another shore

I carefully arrange

Each memory

Like flowers

In the box

Allow myself

To regard

For a simple tearing moment

These small things

That mean

Baby existed

They mean

Even though

We must endure Death

Remembrance

Can be it’s own kind of hope

And hope

Can bring us back to life again

I cry

Recite some broken words

Like a Hail Mary

Whispered

In some cavernous Sanctuary

Promise

I’ll remember

The sunlit days

We never had

The morning smiles

I never got to see

The love worn stuffed friend

I never found

I’ll turn over

And over again

In the puddle of love

That surrounds me

Wet myself through

With the blessings

And with the Hope

I make waffles for

Float my mourning

In mirth

Pour the wine

Let it breathe

Drain the glass

My body will be the bread

Hope will be the binding

In remembrance


Kat Petras1 Comment