5 years ago
my back ached
second after second
129600 seconds
if suffering was time
why not another child? they ask
because you
i loved you
slowly
like molasses on a cold window
something was wrong
everyone said so
guilt and anger on a platter
so i drank every morning
brewing them as chai
yet
you were there
and
i had to protect you
without knowing why
because
when you came
i was exhausted
broken all over
6/100 births, they said
i was the 6%
days rolled into one
so
i read
while you fed
and slept
am i to look back,
recalling memories
with fondness
the zillion videos and photos
are a testimony
you were perfect
i was smiling, nodding
but that was tiring
too many voices
spoiling the broth
throwing tar
writing manuals for me
on how to perform
motherhood
so i locked us in
for days at a time
you and i
the broth was tasteless
the tar useless
my skin already dark
you smiled and cooed
but mostly watched
intensely
our ever-shifting moods
as we cried together
our tears mingling
and so
the knocking on the door stopped
the ringing on the phone, too
the birds sang
the trees agreed
when
i loved you a little more, yes i did
hiding my shame
forging new skin
with steel
to keep them all out
except
you
5 years later,
my second heart
still cocooned next to me
dreaming about flying
and pancakes
and fuzzy monsters
while i,
some nights,
can’t sleep
thinking about
splinters,
the cacti aren’t gentle
do I have enough band-aids for you?
while you,
blow bubbles on my face,
doodle on my books,
and
each day, my shield
gets weaker
my skin sheds
the steel rusted now, oxidised
your love, the oxygen
you