Then, the barrier of a tray between
me and you,
a tray and my fear of your fragility.
Later, a wooden box and six cold feet
of mud held us apart
as I lay against the warm earth
my arms outstretched and longing.
Now, five years the barrier
between us, Time shifts,
springs out, springs in.
Five years, so little time.
Of course the tears still
come, five years, so long.
A five year old child, so
changed from the one I once
Beheld.
I gaze at your photos, long
to reach back in time to
give you the cuddle I
never gave.
I have changed. Hands
have become confident,
Lost the
Fear
Of your paper thin skin.
Five years on, I long to feel
the warmth of your body on mine,
to cradle you
as close
as these live sisters
who cuddle
and cling.
I cannot turn the clock
back
The Polaroid picture
fades and I
feel the physical distance
between us
Grow
And the chasm is a rip
I cannot mend.
1 comment:
Hi Anne, thanks for sharing your blog. It is really moving to read and it must have been both difficult and therapeutic to write it. I am struck by your and Dave's strong conviction that each life is complete however long or short it was lived, and that God will use every life, even if it is completely unclear to us how and why! Thank God He went through it all with you, how do people survive without Him?
Much love,
Debbie.
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