he asks if

This new brother of mine asks
tough questions, like whether I would want
the death of this family friend to be less
hard for me to deal with

because the truth is that in some ways yes
I would because I am very weak right now, but

mostly I puzzle because I don't understand why
it is so

hard.  Why this death that I still know
next to nothing about?  Why this man
who I interacted with for real maybe
4 times in my life? Is it because he was

younger than my father because his son
was my classmate because he was
someone I admired and wanted to be
happy and because the day he died

my new brother said something about
C.S. Lewis that I wanted to share with him
because it would have made him laugh?

Because it was so sudden and that
scares me because there is never
enough time to be with all the people
we love and admire because the fall

brought death and separation in, and
there is nothing I can do about that 

when I am always so very far away?

already this tired

deer die on roadsides
last day of summer weather
already this tired

the new baby

Most parents check their newborns to see if all the parts are present and accounted for.  I cannot imagine what it was like for you, friends.  10 fingers.  10 toes.  A whole brain and intact skull.  Pink and not blue.  Breathing.  Alive.  Looking at you.  (You know, at least vaguely with those wizened old person faces and fathomless eyes.)  Not like the last one. 

This one will be easier to dress, too, limbs not already stiffening in rigor mortis, mottled with oxygen-deprivation blue.  The hat can be used for warmth and decoration, not to hide the fact that most of his skull and brain were not there. 

I am praying for the new baby and for you because this fallen world is so dangerous, and I don't want anything more to break your hearts because I am weak, and I just don't think I could take it. 

Health and wholeness and peace be upon you and your house, you and your living son.  And rest for your dead.

the lamb on the porch

When I visited your house, and you explained
the lamb on the porch represented your baby
who died when he was born without his brain
I almost lost it.  I was mostly keeping it together
until I saw that look on your face--the loss and
compassion that allowed you to carry that baby
to term and then let him go when so many other
parents can't handle the same thing--but I had
already committed to not being the damp one,
to not seeing the dead baby pictures I never
wanted to see whenever I saw your faces and
your swelling belly as you tried again to bring
a new life into this world and not, dear God
please not, another lamb onto your porch.

Come, Lord Jesus

The coffin
is the size
of those cheap
styrofoam coolers
 you get at gas
stations and the
teddy bear
beside it looks
off the frame
into some distance
I can't see
blue and white
flowers cover
the top of the box
and I want
to live
in a world
where this
doesn't happen
but I don't
live there
not
yet

I can still smell it

I wonder if the smell of the lilacs still hangs in that yard or if it's only the memory so strong that makes me think it's still there so long after all the flowers bloomed and died.

loving the darkness

.
I don't want to turn
on the lights because 
it will be harder
to see the rain
.

dead lilacs

The thing about lilacs
is that after they're dead
they still smell like heaven
for some time

What I wanted to do that day

What I want to do is huddle on the couch watching the wind whip through the cottonwoods listening to the sound of the leaves and the rain drizzling down, just existing, not trying to distract myself from the pain or discomfort or the fever, not trying to accomplish anything, letting my thoughts drift instead of constantly yanking them back on course of necessity.  I want to watch the clouds move past in ragged layers in the sky and see if the sun will ever come out today.

Give me a warning, I beg you

Is it wrong of me to wish
you hadn't posted the picture
of your dead baby dressed
like a doll in the gift another
friend made for you?

Is it weak of me to wish I hadn't
seen that deformed face and
the blue splotchy body because
he never quite managed to take
his first (and last) breath?

What you call beautiful

What you call beautiful

How could such
perfect feet so
perfectly formed

be dead before
you took a breath?
What does it feel like to dress

your dead baby for a picture
to remember it by, blue and hideously
deformed and never quite alive

and what am I supposed to do
and to feel as I look at this child
you call beautiful?

happy birthday, dead baby

.
no more chances
for a miracle

just separation

grief 

and so much pain

.

the waiting (10)

It's hard
for me to wait
for the birth
and death
announcement;

I cannot
imagine how
hard it is
for you.

Soon
the waiting
will end.

The end is nigh

The due date is near.  It's no longer mother's day but May 16th.  Three more days +14 before they induce.  I cannot imagine what it must be like.

Recently, my friend said, "He's definitely running out of space in there, so we'll see how long he stays."  I wanted to just break down.  What a tension she must be wrestling with: The clash of wanting every minute with this life, no matter how doomed, and the desire to be delivered (a word that never seemed more appropriate).  The day of his birth will be the day of his death, so she wants as much time with him as she can get.  But the discomfort grows daily, the burden of bringing a death into the world, as Cordelia said in Barrayar (only more literally in this case). 

The pain won't end, though, with the birth-and-death.  And the mourning won't begin at that moment.  It began long ago when they heard the truth about their baby.  Oh, friends, I weep for you, but there's nothing I can really do to easy your suffering.

There are kids outside riding bikes in the rain, and my heart breaks again along the same fault lines.  Oh, God.