Sunday, November 14, 2021

For Heather - Another Year Without You

A Matter So Small 

I never saw her, my daughter, my Heather
I felt her prenatal kicks; I patted my belly
Named her Little Harry Eagleclaw
She liked my rocking chair, I think 
Kicking when I would pause to stop
She died, bones crushed by the weight of her own body fluids
A mystery, they said, so sad, they said, you'll have another, they said.
I nodded, the always acquiescent essence of a good girl
Not willing to bother anyone, for a matter so small.

Until one morning, when the sun came up a little slanted
Illuminating the white hot fierceness of loss 
I moaned and wailed and beat my fists upon the walls 
Demanding retribution, demanding an accounting
Demanding God to show himself, to strike me dead 
And when I was done, God being silent 
I lay spent, alive, yet not, pieces of my soul released and gone forever 
Buried with my perfect monster child, my daughter, my baby, my Heather.