Today, I did not write what you'll read below. I wrote in a yesterday. I couldn't publish it that day, because I realized it was quite alarming. And I didn't want to alarm you with what may be seen as theatrics. Melodramatic or not, I wasn't exaggerating the description of my feelings. I was actually feeling alarmed, as a mother is wont to feel when her small infant succumbs to whatever germs have been brought home from kindergarten. The baby's doing better today, sunshine smile and all, so I'll go ahead and post this.
Here you are-- melodrama from the thick of our sick week:
or anyday in her life.
Her sunshine smile is hiding
behind glassy eyes.
She sleeps more, eats less, moans quietly, startles easily.
Her lethargy is killing me.
And my heart,
it is irregularly beating and constantly weakening.
My soul ails in its very depth,
wavers between nagging worry and exhaustive paranoia.
I have never entreated heaven like I did today,
never wanted anything more while feeling so
entirely powerless.
She, draped over my shoulder, paces with me
and I sniff her feathery head.
I think she is the sweetest thing I've ever smelled,
the softest to ever brush my cheek.
My imagination is holding her here
against my shoulder on a happier day
when giggles replace these soft cries.
We'll come out on the other side
just fine.
I believe it.
We'll be a little stronger,
with some more wisdom
and faith.
You amaze me. When i met you i knew nothing of your capacity to write. Particularly to be subtle, at times, in your writing. Your pen is a beautiful one. Your mind and heart more infinitely still.
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