all i have to offer
/
this is a hard new world to live in
(it is f*cked, to say it another way).
the terrain seems to take pleasure
in hiding prehistoric sized rocks
under unassuming sand dunes.
sweltering grief descends quickly on this land
a gentle fog can transform into a barbaric tornado
without any warning or cover in sight.
i bulldozed my way through a type of hurricane today,
a 4-year-old’s birthday party with little girls galore --
once upon a time, a simple and sweet celebration,
now too tragic and exhausting to bear.
i escape from the balloons and cake and torment
with the most desperate urgency to be near her,
but the day is handing its reins to the night,
and it's too late to visit the store for a gift.
it will be the first time after months of visits
that i do not have a trinket or a toy or a flower
to lay on her grave
and panic sets in that is sort of like death but not.
but as i approach her place at the base of the hill
my heart starts to beat more gently,
as it always does (when you're close to someone you love)
“i’m sorry sweet girl,” i whimper with my empty hands,
kneeling to kiss the cold, pitiless ground.
i press my chapped lips into the frozen dirt
inhaling the closest smell i have to smelling her.
it is of little use.
she is long gone,
and much of the carbon in her little body
has already moved on to someplace else.
and with that revelation, a relief --
somehow flowers start to return to flowers,
and my empty hands do not feel so heavy.
i rise, brush the dirt off my knees, blow a kiss into the blue-gray air,
and i stand in the comfort of realizing
all i ever really had to offer her
was my love.--
what do offer to the babies you miss?