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The Puzzle of Me

fullsizeoutput_338aI was high on a horse, on top of the world

My dog was behind me, the ground beneath me twirled.

My soul was singing, everything in its place

But then a vine grabbed me, ripped up my face.

 

Next thing I knew my head hit the ground

Wondering what just happened, this time around.

Would the baby inside me live through this day

Or had I destroyed her and me both, in my usual way?

 

I got on my feet, looked for my horse, in vain;

And that mistake changed me, I learned from the pain

I swore if she lived I would try something new

She lived and I changed; she was born and she flew.

 

I still went down the wrong roads, searching for more

Pricked that old cactus til my body was sore

I continued to fall, got back on my feet

But It took blows to the head, to let me know I was beat

 

Today I smile as I picture my girl and my boy.

I look back on my failures, my pain and my joy

Then I look forward, trying to see

Where life’s lessons fit, In the puzzle of me

 

Not the puzzle filled with black squares

Of sorrow and shame

But the one of the woman

who bears my name

 

The falls might be many

The scars I may wear

I now notice new color

In my long, thick hair

 

My load may be heavy

My days might be rife

But no one else’s patina

Has the sheen of mylife

 

It takes what it takes

As my wise friend said

And I know from experience

I have a very hard head

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Framed

I wrote this poem 3 years ago: grief, revisited:

 

I love to look at pictures.

When I visit people’s homes,

More than small talk I enjoy wandering,

Looking at the pictures, in their pretty frames.

 

You can tell so much from peoples’ pictures.

Perfectly posed? Nothing but smiles?

Hiding something.

Two people, heads together, smiling,  while their bodies push apart?

This will not last.

Nothing but old black and whites,

Romantic memories of bygone eras?

Avoiding something.

 

I like to listen while I look,

to hear the story that’s being told by the pictures in their frames.

What story do my pictures tell?

I hope they tell a story of moments.

 

The moment when

my daughter met her new baby brother for the first time.

The moment when

my toddler son basked in the belief of my perfection.

 

I’ve tried to frame these moments,

display them for all to share.

But there’s one moment I’ve framed, but never shared.

 

The moment when

My 23-week old son was born, but never took a breath.

 

Thirteen years ago today

After laboring the better part of a day

I saw my little boy for the first and last time.

 

This moment has been framed in my mind for years.

Framed with grief and anger.

How many things were visibly wrong

How his outward deformities symbolized my inner ones.

 

This year, I notice the frame is changing.

Now, when I look at this moment, I see other things too.

Yes, I see the deformities, but today

I also see a little soul, pure and beautiful.

Yes, I see sorrow, but today

I also see joy, joy for the boy and man he would have become.

 

The frame, which was one-dimensional and black

Now shows some facets and sparkle,

Like a diamond in the rough.

Today I know the frame isn’t finished

And I’m curious about what it will become.

 

I’ve always thought the black-framed moment

was never meant to be shared.

But today’s multi-dimensional, sparkly frame

Demanded to be shared.

 

And so it is.

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For Erik

16 years ago this week, I spent a day laboring and delivering a stillborn son, whom I named Erik.  I wrote this poem in the following weeks, desperately trying to put to words the abject, primal grief – and love – that I felt.

I knew you.

Did you know me?

You were my secret companion.
You heard the sounds of my life.

Did you listen to the thoughts in my head?

You felt my touch as I caressed you, growing inside of me.

I felt your kicks and reveled in the fact that,

For now, you belonged only to me.

 

And then the horrible news.

Although I had just accepted that you were meant to be inside of me,

They told me you could not be

Outside of me.

While you kicked happily inside me

I made the horrible decision to end

What little life you’d known.

 

That night I heard your heart beating for the last time,

Strong and proud.

All that night as I lay crying

You kicked inside of me

As if you knew we were saying goodbye.

 

And then, with my tears, you came out

Taking with you a piece of my heart

But leaving forever the memory

Of when I knew you.

 

To a practiced eye you were irreparably flawed.

To a mother’s eye you were perfect.

I wrapped you in a blanket,

Kissed your tiny hands and sang to you.

But you couldn’t hear me anymore.

 

Now where are you?

 

Though nobody seems to notice,

I wear your scars.

Your outward imperfections

Symbolizing, for me, my inner flaws.

 

Every once in awhile I catch a glimpse of you

In your brother or sister’s face.

A tear comes to my eye

And I catch my breath,

Considering, for a moment, what might have been.

 

You taught me so much.

My life will go on.

But I’ll never forget

That I knew you.