Dear Sylas,

You never saw the sun.
Created and cradled in the dark
I knew you alive,
inside my body we lived together
-with exception of the kicks your Father felt
no one knew you.
Grief is lonely
and days after you'd left our space
I still felt you move within
an infant ghost
haunting my womb.
Grief is like fear,
gives reasons for fear
-as if I needed more.

My body empty,
I feel alone among friends.
Our worlds stopped that day
-a frozen clock.
Others keep ticking.
Babies are born,
born of friends and strangers.
My guilt buries me during quiet moments.
I could not keep you alive,
Daddy could not save you.

When I first knew of you
my response was not joy
and in many moments I thought
"is this the right time?", "is this the right man?"
did my thoughts betray you,
push you away,
make you wish you belonged to some other mother,
did you know I loved you?
Did you feel it before I?
Self doubt and anguish fill me.
I wonder if you left in peace,
lulled to sleep by my beating heart

I like to think that as I slept the night you left
your kicks were spelling " I love you"
in the only language you knew.
Your Father is strength.
His grief expresses at times as forgetfulness,
a symptom of the daily life he took on too soon,
the routine he took on for me,
for your  big sister.
She misses you,
asks about you often
-what happened and where you are.
She reminds me to have patience
mostly with myself
.

and with whatever else the universe has in store