Moods Of P

A walk through my words


I’m sick of being a field of ideas.
Daily, hourly I imagine how YOU can make yourself bigger, brighter, more.
Weekly you come with promises of me growing with you and yet monthly I see myself becoming poorer.

I’m sick of being the womb that nurtures rich ideas.
I feed your young until they are ready to be birthed.
My labour pains as I struggle for breath to make sure your businesses, plays, books, project, jobs make it in this all too real world are all for nought.
My struggles are forgotten as you feed your bellies with my sweat, my love and my energy which I offered because you said we could grow together.

I’m sick of being the nurse who you bring your sick and ailing minds to!
I heal you, body, mind and soul and yet all the thanks I get from you is post cards from Paris and you recalling how sick you once were.
My sleepless nights poring over possible solutions to what ailed you are long forgotten.
You used to whisper what you would do for me when you got well!

I am sick and tired of being used!
I love to help but I am done with pretense!
Your pretenses of love, growth I am done with!
My art I do out of love. Love for the ones who fed me when I was hungry, nursed me when I was sick!
What do I feed them now that they are hungry? What do I give them now that they are sick?

I am sick of your empty promises.
Leave me to work honestly for the one who love me.
Your words are like empty cans kicked about; all they do is make noise.
I am sick of myself for having faith in you.

My spine straightens today.
I have done my part and made you strong.
All along I have been going about it wrong.
At least to myself I have proved my talents.
I will be on my way.

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Blue 2

The signs were there I just didn’t want to listen. The signs were there I just didn’t want to see it. The gifts you bought, the cruel words you said, the little ways you made me feel like less of a woman. I saw it coming.

You broke me like a wrangler breaks a horse. First you started with things that I swore didn’t hurt but they broke my spirit but by bit until I swore that I couldn’t even feel it. As I lay at home in my own bed I knew that you were killing me bit by bit.

I couldn’t bear the thought of my friends seeing me as a lesser being. My nails, hair and face were always freshly done. I could buy my mother the little things that made her life divine and slowly I could see her esteem of me rise. I could act like the person I fear to be and floss with your money.

Picture courtesy of

You created my dependence like a drug dealer with a junkie. First it was material things and then it was your laughter, love and your anger. You gave me until I was drunk and felt material bliss, the latest clothing, make up brand, my favourite designer hand bag, the luxury of takeout grilled on an open fire and then you tamed me by conditioning responses like Pavlov’s dogs and the bells.

I saw this coming. I just didn’t want to believe. I knew one day you’d kill me but somehow with every beating you never once got my blood on your sleeve.

You were always so sorry and always so forgiving for my bad behaviour, I knew you needed me, I knew I was nothing without you, only you can/could love me the way you do. If I had just gotten home earlier from my father’s funeral you wouldn’t have gotten mad. If I had just insisted on getting home earlier it wouldn’t have been this bad.

As my body bleeds and I feel my spirit wanting to take its leave I realize that you’ve never really loved me. As my breath is air and blood I realize that they were all right, you’re bad for me. As my body stops feeling pain I realize that you are weak, or else you wouldn’t wait until we are alone to speak to me with your hands, fists, shoes, feet and elbows. As you beg me not to die on you I realize if I ever see you again I will kill you.

Picture courtesy of

You fill my hospital room with flower, fruit juice, and chocolates. My sons stand with clenched fists. My daughter flinches with me every time you caress my cheek. My sisters roll their eyes. My brothers murder you slowly in their minds. My father doesn’t come to visit and my mother pretends. I swear I will never find myself here again. Shame burns my face when my best friend tells me that is what I said the last time.

This time I realize that next time I might just become dead as well as black and blue.

Next time this could be me. Picture courtesy of


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That Kind of Mother

I see his eyes caress her skin,

And follow her every room she walks in.

The look I know well,

It is the lust straight from the fires of hell.

My stomach churns and

My body shudders

For the one he lusts

 after is none other than

 my daughter.

He wants her with a lust

 that threatens his composure.

My own strains to

disabuse him of his need for “closure”

My stomach churns &

my body barely contains a shudder

 for the lust that he bears

 is for my pre-teen daughter

Her breasts have barely begun

to strain against her clothing

and her hips are just

 barely forming.

Please understand my horror

for his lust must be an error.

God give me strength as I hover

for I dread to be that kind of Mother.

I see his hand reach for

 her breast

and it is as though my lungs

 are under a test.

I desperately want to scream

but I’m caught in a very bad dream.

She jerks away, sure it is

a mistake

& I pretend not to notice for her sake.

I sense her discomfort

and I walk to wrap her in my arms to give her comfort.

I saw his eyes light up with interest

and my heart sunk that everyone else feigned disinterest.

My flesh, my blood, my daughter,

groped by a man who could be her father.

Bile rises from my stomach

as his lust with disgust

I watch in pain & heartache

 for at one point with him, her did we trust.

My soul cries out with despair

 and my hands grip my hair

 tears from my eyes fall

as I realize it was only a dream after all.

As I gaze at my sleeping lover,

I wonder, am I, could I be that kind of Mother?

My hands caress my stomach to soothe my unborn daughter.

God, I pray, let me not be that kind of mother.

I look once more upon my lover,

fast asleep in a land of wonder.

If he doubted our child’s claim,

would I worry about our family name?

My skin crawls at the thought

and my mind notes, all the things in this house he bought.

My skin turns clammy, as I realize our life would change since I can’t afford a nanny.

My heart breaks because I know she’d never eat cakes if we left my lover.

Poverty or my child's freedom
Poverty or my child's happiness? Credit

Sobs rack my body as I contemplate my unborn child’s fate.

Anger boils in my veins, damn it all these are just things.

I’d rather live in a hovel &

see my daughter dig dirt with a shovel

 than witness her hurt & shame

all for the sake of our family name.

With renewed strength I snuggle closer to my lover.

Finally, my stirring, he discovers.

As he asks me what is wrong

I know where I belong.

I will never be that kind of mother.


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We stand on hills proclaiming our doctrines are pure and full of virtue while we lust after and seduce the sons and daughters of Man when we have our back to the world.

Image by Just2Shutter

We castigate the sons & daughters of Man who are caught by the Public Eye with their pants down soon after we’ve coaxed them to unbutton, just this once, for us.

We scold & chastise the sons and daughters of Man who deign to be true to themselves, rightly or wrongly declaring that they are & with a constancy that makes us ill to our stomachs they communicate and for that we serve punishment.

We taunt the sons and daughters of Man who, when placed before the Public Eye, confess the sins we nurtured in them & commit with our minds if not our bodies with careful planning and no regard for the vast differences between our words and our actions.

We raise our noses at the daughters of Man who walk with swollen bellies as a testament to a love they perceived was shared as the undulated their hips in tandem to the thrusts from the hips of a son of Man and sniff as though our hearts were never hollow from rejection of a son of Man and though our wombs were bare, our greatest gift we could also no longer share.

We glare at the daughters of Man as they parade lithe figures and breasts that are full, pert, aching to be touched. We accuse them of loose morals forgetting when we also allowed a son of Man to taste and see the goodness of our flat bellies and firm thighs.

Image by Ambro

We scorn the full-figured grown daughters of Man who take pride in having no more flat bellies and pert breasts but full, soft curves that remind the grown sons of Man of the fullness promised at Harvest and the sweetness of mangoes picked at just the right time as if we no longer feel the desire in our loins to become one in a dance for two that brings us back to the heavens, even if for a moment or gives us reminders of the pleasures skin offer when met with skin.

We praise the sons of Man for acts of barbary and unculturedness as we laud yet another seed carelessly sown on fertile ground sprouting wild oats whose days we’ll lament because the sons of Man only sought pregnant bellies and ignored the responsibility of nurturing their seed into sons of Man worthy of their legacy.

We smile & murmur as the sons of Man gawk at the lithe figures and reach for the pert breasts forgetting the daughters of Man are the mothers of Man who require the protection & respect of the sons of Man.

We congratulate the swollen bellies and feet on the sons of Man who plunder & rape the work of the sons and daughters of man, exploiting their fellow kin for the sake of an extra car, house or wife.

We bemoan the state of affairs of the land and blame the sons & daughters of Man for their lack of foresight & their empty visions yet our hands remain folded behind our heads & our minds calculate how to gain where we have yet to sow.

If we are not an emblem of hypocrisy, then we have no cause to complain & the world surely is as right as rain on the barren savannah just after the hot, dry season. 13/11/2011

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Fear of Myself

The only voice I’ve ever been afraid of is my own. The only person I’ve ever truly been afraid of is me.

Image by Idea go

As a new picture of who I am is formed in my mind and I realize my potential is nowhere near maximization I find myself afraid of what I could create.

The irony lies in itself that the only person I’ve ever competed with is me.

Image by Salvatore Vuono

The only being that I have ever perceived as truly being, is me. And yet the power that I could unleash, I am afraid.

Of the happiness I could create, I stand, afraid.

Of the influence I could yield over others I am eternally afraid.

Of the power, vision and foresight I can inspire I cower, from myself, afraid.

I am afraid to be myself and communicate who I am lest it become a crime again to be wholly awesomely me,

And yet I know there is no need to be afraid. 13/11/2011

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What This Girl Wants

I want a man:

 who loves me as I am,

Who gives his all where I am concerned.

 who recognizes that I am different from all the others he’s dates, wanted to date, slept with and wanted to sleep with, his momma, his grandma, his cousins,  his ex(es).

Image by jscreationzs

who strives to give what I deserve everyday & though he may never give me thousands of diamonds, insists on finding one that sparkles his love for me and buys it.

Image by freedigitalphotos

This girl wants a man who recognizes a woman in me that’ll love him fiercely but give him room to be himself. Oh Lord, a man, who will understand that each meal cooked & each caress is part of my love for him, who will understand that sometimes I need to be held & even if it’s funny or he’s in a hurry, he will wrap his arms around me.

A man

who hates to see me cry especially when it’s something he’s done;

that’ll crack jokes to make me laugh when I look foul ‘n’ angry.

I want a man who will marry me & kiss me in the morning when I awake & kiss me before we go to bed at night. Every night, even after a bitter unfinished argument.

Image by nuttaki

A man:

Who can apologize & accept apologies;

Who cooks me breakfast even when I’m not sick;

Who sees when I’m too tired to cook a meal & takes it on himself to make something or go out & buy it (or take me out for dinner).

Who will accept my kisses regardless of place or time.

who insists weekends are ours, even if we have to make a weekend during a week.

who inspires me to be generous, giving and realistic.

who makes sure he tells me he loves me at least once a day (even if he doesn’t say the words).

who will cry in front of me and lets me dry his tears. Who accepts my hugs when it’s all I’ve got to give.

I want a man:

who wakes up in the middle of the night to pull me closer if I’m too far.

who continues to speak to me until he understands what I really mean.

who is willing to learn if he doesn’t know.

willing to be taught & to teach.

who no matter how unsightly I may seem to others sees the beauty that makes me, me,

who respects my mind & thoughts I may not be knowledgeable or intelligent consults me on those things which matter & some that don’t.

who though I may be older or younger respects my opinion & experiences,

who looks forward to me bearing his child & can accept that if it doesn’t happen he still has me to love & be loved by.

who’d give me the shirt off his back if I sneezed.

whose affections are real and unhidden yet not overwhelming.

Ah…to have such a man, I am blessed and for the many times I thought I had him; I am richer for the experience. He is not perfect & yet he builds me up from strength to strength with what I have that is God-given. Opening my eyes to the wonderful creature called woman that I am. Whether our time together is one month, or a few, one year or a few I have from this union myself & the knowledge of what it feels like to be truly loved, for me, as me.

It’s worth writing & remembering. If you have it, cherish it. If you search for it, enjoy it as it comes as it may not all arrive on white horse nor with the strength to sweep you off your feet. Love beloveds & be loved.


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His Eyes

In his eyes, I see mockery,

In his eyes I see hope,

In his eyes, I see death.

In my mind, I speak mockery.

In my heart is hope.

Image by photostock

On my tongue is death.

On his tongue is honey,

In his heart is faith,

On his mind is truth.

In my eyes, he sees money.

In my eyes, he sees faith.

In my eyes, he sees truth.

God(s) above, entrust his heart in my hands.

While I feel unworthy, I know it was in your plans.

God above grant him peace, each and every time he rests with me.

In his heart is the home I’ve always sought.

His very happiness is my second thought.

His body is the temple in which I worship the Almighty.

His soul is where I reside nightly.

God(s) above, bless me that I may be able to fulfil my purpose.

While I may falter, it will always be my focus.

God above, grant us a blessing time will never lessen.

In my eyes, he sees the future.

In my eyes, he sees the humour.

In my eyes, he sees me.

On his mind is the future

In his heart is the humour

On his tongue is me.

On my tongue is soothe

In my heart is healing

On my mind is us

In his eyes, I see truth

In his eyes, I see healing

In his eyes, I see us


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When I looked up I saw a boy with the most beautiful brown eyes. Oh his eyes were the colour of dark amber on fire, brown with gold flecks. I asked him what his name was and he told me he was hunger. I knew he lied not. Not to me. Not then. And so I learnt what hunger was and I embraced hunger, learning from, rejecting & accepting hunger.

Image by graur codrin

For never before had I know how privileged I was & how much more there was yet for me to learn. Today I yearn for hunger that is real & reminds me of how lucky I am to be alive & in the back of my mind I know I still have hunger with me or I would not know how many times death has crossed my path & I would not be grateful for the chance to act out my gratitude in small actions.

Image by David Castillo Dominici

I’m very far from the road of wanton disregard for the gift I’ve got and still I have a long way to go before I get to that place I dream of where I do not need to know & yet know…the secrets of the universe lie open to all who would seek them. They lie in plain view & yet the absorption we have with being what we already are keeps us from seeing. Keeps us from becoming what we admire & find amazingly impossible.

Image by Danilo Rizzuti

The magic lies within & when you know it you will try but because your faith is week because you are weak, you will not see it nor become it.

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I wonder

Image by jscreationzs

Sometimes I wonder if you see me.

Not the flesh and blood before you but me.

Sometimes when we speak it’s like you don’t hear me.

Not the words I speak but the hints of me.

Then you speak to me & I see that when my flesh is calmly before you, you see me fidgety and uneasy.

Then you speak to me & solve the problems caused by insecurity.

I’m lost in my thoughts & you find me.

I’m caught up in everyone’s  intentions & opinions & you free me.

I’m drowning in unshed tears & I find that you’ve always held my head above the water.

I’m in the dark about how you feel & yet I feel the light and my steps do not falter.

Status quo and society’s conventions point us in the direction that everyone’s eyes see.

I hold your hand and see us walking where I’ve always wanted to be.

I try to explain that as others stick to convention’s path

My heart won’t let [me] be stuck on that.

Sometimes I wonder if you really see me.

Sometimes I wonder if you really hear me.

Then you hold my hand when I pretend I’m not scared.

Then you hold me when my heart has been bared.


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His Feels

I know how he feels,
the trepidation of seeing her online but she isn’t chatting to him
wondering who has captivated her attention

I know how he feels,
anxious to wake up to a few lines from her
those precious words that give hope for another day

I know how he feels,
the cold feeling in his stomach after a few days of silence
her interactions with others barely warming him like a distant fire

He laments at how she’s so cold,
he forgets that he too at one stage was so bold
to forget the presence of a lover because he could dally with another

I know how he feels,
for the passion he feels for her I once felt for him
amusement plays at the corner of my lips
as he hints to play between her hips

Laughter has found me again
I gently remind him of how the tables have turned
Had I been paper surely I would have burned
But true to the past he is being spurned as he spurned
I shrug, it isn’t my battle, I  already know how he feels


Not Meat

I like you,
heck I’m falling but
I’m not meat

You’re cute and
I feel your words;
they tickle my mind & jump start my heart

You can have all of me,
mind, body soul
I’ve left all my bones out
for you to see

You’re cute
I love your voice
but I’m not meat

I could get drunk
off your kisses
I could even see me;
as your misses

My heart turns cold
And my bones groan no
you ignore my pleas
Blinded to my heart’s needs

The curves, soft skin,
the eye feast;
like a shopper you grab and caress
forgetting the rest

Pleasing your hands & other senses
you tumble down the spiral
Need you created by stroking
desire you stoked flames up

You beg, plead,
you need, you are dying
just a sip of elixir to tide you over

You claim starvation,
surely if I care I’ll let you feed
but I’m not meat

I tried being caring
gave you a sip and you ripped the jug from me and got drunk
leaving me broken & empty

No more.
Hunger you shall until you see for real
I am not meat

You do not see how I broke and shattered
We carried on like it didn’t matter
like you did not take part
in tearing up my heart

You took more than what was on offer,
you left me with grief,  angst despair
And from that you want to sup again

you hunger for what you stole
you expect to find me whole
You seek to dine again
sorry, bar’s closed

The chef went into hiding
the bar tender quit
the band’s on hunger strike
Meals are invitation only and the printing press died

You die
I’ve been dying
my thoughts race; this is what you sought all along, nothing else of me matters
you’ll be happy to quench your thirst and fill your belly

This is how it ends
You starve as I have
You may never actually get it
truth is
I am not meat



Somehow in the torrent of the words that his presence evoked she found the words that unlocked the man he’d always wanted to be.
As he gingerly stepped out and away from the shackles that had had him bound year after year her next words coaxed the precious first steps to freedom.
Her heart sang to see him unbound. With a smile she hid her fears.
Gently she walked with him until he was able to run.
In, out, around she coached him. Suddenly he realized he was flying and she was right with him.
To dizzying heights he ascended til at last somewhere up high he looked back for her.
A speck in the distance he called to her.
Her weak response was laced with pain.
His mind went back to their early days and he recalled she’d always had broken wings.
Swooping down with alarming speed he raced towards the ground.
There he found her in a free fall just before the rocky ground.
He swooped under her and carried her away.
On a nest of firm branches covered in cotton and heather he laid her gently down.
Her breathing ragged and distressed he tended her in his nest.
Daily he flew far and wide in search of the thing that could cure his bride.
Daily he tended each broken bone amazed that he had never known or guessed the extent of her damage.
At last it was her turn to heal, & he had had the honouring of furnishing every meal and providing her shelter.
His call lured her into the skies and each time her wings failed her he broke her fall until they were flying high.
If you look carefully into the skies you will see them to this day flying high.
Both had been left for dead by the ones who had come before now they fly high forever more.
Seek the one who would and could switch from invalid to healer or allow you to heal them in their darkest hour.
Be the fertile ground upon which the most delicate of seeds will flower into the strong and mighty tree rooted firmly in you providing you shade and protection from the storms.
That’s what she told me before breathing her final breath in the shade of a mighty oak.
And so my dear friends I leave you the tale of the lovers that could switch.


Any body’s Girl

I could be anybody’s
Never forget that the good in his soul,
is what spurs me to give him a whirl

I could be any man’s woman
The light I see through the windows of his soul
leads me down his path to his heart that I tend and grow
That’s why I could be any man’s woman.

Their smiles, their words
effect, have none.
Charms, looks don’t add a skip to my beat hun
It’s the mettle of a man and the and the strings of his heart that tend to make me look not so smart.

It’s as if a small motley crew have finally figured out what to do
The once unobtainable ice princess can dine with beings of many vices

You see, I could easily be anybody’s girl
As long as it’s not my body he wants to give a whirl
Any fella could easily have have a go but more oft than not my response is “no”

The thing the ones who get yes forget
is that my attentions once got must be kept
I may say yes and do my level best but as a suitor he must do the rest

No superbly long delays in replying or my minds fear will make my heart dying
No lack of pursuit nor givings of attention
will leave me in fits of true pretension


Thank you…
While those two words and ellipsis can’t begin to describe what you’ve done for me
I must say, “Thank You”
My heart beat is strong because you didn’t give up

My heart sings because you gave me another chance
I stand on top of the mountain
a few weeks, months ago you said I would
Thank you

I am growing
you gave me a chance to dig in and take root
I am struggling
I could have been dead already

my faith in love lives
my hope in life thrives
my joy in giving grows
my persistence burns bright

Thank you…
Two words and an ellipsis will never cover the depth of my gratitude and yet I offer them like Frankincense and Murrh; priceless and unique 

Thank you
from me
Thank you
for me


I can only hope you enjoy
what you have given me and much more
With desire to give
others the gift given me

I flourish and prosper
you deserve no less
I grow
stronger, more myself
you require the same

Thank you…
Two words and an ellipsis.
my eternal gratitude present
you’ve made futures infinitely better.

Lost Child Part 2


At first I was thrilled

a child of my very own

Then with fear I was chilled

for your father was not mine alone.


For months you were shrouded in secret.

For your own good, I told myself,

I would keep your paternity secret.

For my sanity, he would honour our union himself.


We would talk you and I

I would tell you my dreams for you

When I was alone you would comfort me as I cry

In joy I planned and prayed for my dream come true


Then finally the day came when I would see

the child born of my womb

It was so hard to believe together we would finally be

What I didn’t expect was to have to buy your tomb.


Your face was perfection

Your smile an eternal image in my mind

Your eyes closed in eternal sleep my final impression

of a child I only held after death.


I’ve come to say good bye

I’m saddened that I never got to say hello

You’re all I imagined you would be

You were born with the life you kicked within me no more.


Maybe if I had rested more,

Maybe if I had told the world

Maybe if I hadn’t sinned before

Maybe if I had been more bold


I wonder if you knew

just how much my child, I loved

I loved you


Lost Child Part 1


The first two I never got to hold

All I have are the memories that now make me cold,

The elation of knowing that love bore creation

in the finest symbol of perfect love.


At least that’s what I thought

Though answer my call he would not

Even then,

his seed was, in my eyes without sin.


I looked forward to the day

I would embrace a little one

I looked forward to wiping his or her tears away

I wondered how he would react when in fact he learnt that he had a daughter or son.


And then my plans of what to purchase when

all came to a bleeding end

My joy of holding a bouncing baby died

There was no one to tell of the tears I cried


You Make Me Feel..

You make me feel…

like no other should ever

                hold my hand

                ask me to dance

                caress my skin

                show me what love is


You make me feel..

                like I have

                won a prize

                achieved a sought after goal

                now considered myself whole

                finally come home


You make me feel

                like the journey

                is about to become an adventure

                is taking on a new exciting twist

                hadn’t started &

                is about to begin


You make me feel

                like I can & want to be



                the reprieve you seek at the end of a hard day

                the spark that ignites you


(laugh) You make me feel

                real & alive (again)

                happy to have found my friend

                content to be myself

                inspired to help you be yourself


oh, you make me feel

                the sun as it plays subtle notes on my skin

                the rain as it cleans the grime away

                laughter as if it’s clothes I’m meant to be wearin

                pain as it should be: but for a day


yes, you make me feel

                like the time I’ve been waiting for has arrived

                like time has no grip

                like love’s making another trip

                like the war has come & I survived,


then again, you’ve always made me feel

                real & alive

                happy to have a friend

                content as myself

                inspired because you are yourself


Wrong Time

My stomach cramps &
a pain like no other both hot & cold seizes my back.
Nausea grips me as a fever flushes my face &
I see my vision threaten to go black.

Fear grips me as the pains intensify.
Panic sets in as tears well in my eyes,
blood trickles out of me and my face
suddenly cools as nausea dictates a new pace.

The life within me is not yet due.
I clutch my belly praying for a false alarm.
My brain tries with all its might to instil calm.
Oh God, this can’t be true, my baby’s not yet due!

My hand reaches for my phone as
I ponder who yet is at home.
I call my lover & his phone just rings.
I try again only to hear a fat lady sing.

My fear says pray & call your mother, I dial and her calm tones, release pain’s grip.
The pain & blood increase & I feel my consciousness slip.
The thought of sleep welcomes me for a while.
Then I think of the fruit of my womb & I remember it is much too soon.
I clutch my belly writhing in pain, hoping, praying
I call my lover & hear the same lady and tune
The thought of losing my little one spurs a torrent of biblical sayings.

I feel the need to push &
I wonder if I could’ve coped in the bush
This is completely the wrong time
& yet I seek the power to draw my own line
completely fade without a sign.

I awaken to white walls, antiseptic smells & doctor calls.
I see the flowers & the cards & my hope glimmers like shards of broken glass.
I reach for my phone; I need to call him & him alone. As it rings and fruitless banter ensues I wonder how I could ever think that I could do it alone.

Tears well in my eyes.
I swallow my pride after all the baby did come as a surprise.
Grief swallows me whole as my despair towards a pole
North or south it is pointless which route as the sobs are pulled out of my mouth.
When at last the last tear has died & the ache deep within my heart has finally subsided I reach within my reserves as I kiss the wind and wish my baby the better life it would have if he’d just remained frozen & untampered.

On a whim, I search for my lover, friend & find him absent.
On my knees I search for my Father, Friend & find him waiting & ever-present.
I whisper fervent prayers & excuses why I haven’t always been there.

Peace settles in my soul & once again I feel whole.
Enter my lover, friend who would come to me again.
This time as love I restrain from being party to this dance again.
As my tears in memory of our loss well I wonder if my lover I will ever tell
of a wrong time, a child, mine, lost at the wrong time.


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