Poem 84

A broken face

Once full of dreams

Glints with memories of what could have been

If futures had altered

And paths foreseen

The shadows of the world, within.

I see the path

That calls to you

Whispering and dragging, pulling you to

The way that life

Is meant to be lived

Full of smiles, truths, and wonderment.

I beckon you

One day to see

What you deserve; you deserve to be free.

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Reflections: who I was and who I am.

Over the last week I have opened up truths about the last year to a new friend. It wasn’t painful to be honest for once, it was refreshing. But something was painful.

I decided to write a short play for an event, which I did. Then I thought I should get back to the play I started writing last year. I found it and read through it again to remind myself where I needed to write more. That’s when it got painful. I threw my soul into those words and they bit me. I felt melancholy and close to tears the rest of the day, only feeling better when meeting the earlier mentioned friend.

Yesterday, I played the song I wrote almost a year ago which defines the miscarriage for me. I’ve played it a number of times but, this time, I started crying. Maybe it is just tiredness or maybe everything is feeling raw at the moment.

My husband thinks that it is the time of year. It is a year since I started writing again and I started learning to recover. Looking back on who I was then is like looking at a different person most of time time. I can sometimes see that anger though, glinting back up. I walk with my nephew and people smile at me. I don’t have that in the rest of my life.

Being a mother changes the way the world views you. Being a mother without a child changes the way you view the world.

Poem 83

Parallel lives, parallel worlds

Looking left and right at all that could be

Seeing the joy, seeing the sadness

Seeing the heartbreak bestowed on me

Now that you’re gone, returned to the ground

Now that you’re gone…

…I fear I’ll be found.

Poem 74

I walk down the long and winding road

Such beautiful views to see

Until I reach a fork in the path

The choice is up to me.

To follow the hopes and dreams and fear

Of not achieving what could be

Or to risk it all and be able to say

At least I came home safely.

The decision, it rests on who I am

At this single moment in my life

The me of darkness, full of pain

The lacklustre me full of strife.

Which path to choose, new hope could there be

Down the path invitingly green

“Take a chance and you’ll see your right to be free”

It calls so temptingly.

To go left or go right

My feet remain still

I’m floored, I’m stuck

There’s no free will.

Poem 73

It’s tiring
Pretending to be strong
My facade is effective
While the inside crumbles.
It’s hard to admit
The unwilling wallowing within
I can’t be the me
That I used to be.
Imbalanced and confused
No easy way to define
The feelings that
Overwhelm – pride.
I can’t admit
For the world to see
All my struggles are there
If you look closely.
See the hollow eye
Now devoid of its smile
It occasionally fills but
Is it a lie?
There once was a smile
For the world to see
You still see that facade
But there is no more me.

Poem 63

Sickness

The thought brings me sickness

The thought of carrying another child

Dread at the positive.

I don’t know what I’d do

I fear it more than I knew

That dependence of a creature

On my afflicted, tortured soul.

Who knows when I’ll be ready?

Time can measure but not predict

My delicate mind aching with terror

At a future not yet writ.

Poem 60

What would you think if you met me today?

Would you be sad or happy to see me?

So affected by your loss have I been that

You might not recognise this being.

My mind has been fractured, destroyed by the pain

The grief, the anger, the heartbreak

But my body only bears one scar

From when I tried to end it.

If you could see how you’re loved

And how your death has wrecked me

Maybe you wouldn’t have gone.

Your life could have saved me.

Poem 42

I
I am afraid
I am afraid of the darkness inside
I am afraid it will win
I am afraid of its strength and stolen resilience
Captured from the lonely hope, unwittingly.

I
I am lost
I am lost in a paradox of smiles and tears
Of happiness and longing, and fear.
I am lost in the real world but clear in my dreams –
The silent slumber is winning.

I.
I am.
Am I?