Atrophy

I let myself wail today. I needed to and no one was home to be upset by my sadness. I let my sadness crawl through the entire house like a shadow. I let it leave me through tears, through sounds, through grasping fingers. I curled and slept after I spent all of the energy my body had changed into hardness. It wasn't a dark hardness, it was a maternal hardness. It was the ache at not being able to protect my child. My arms! Oh how my arms are hurting! I feel like my tusks have been removed, like my wings have been clipped, like my very skin has been replaced with paper. I cannot feel like an entire person ever again. You have been ripped from me, from my arms. They are empty arms. They need to hold you and only you Frost. I remember the feeling from holding your sister as an infant, it was like that was all I had ever needed. To hold my own baby soothed me as much as it took away her cries. I feel the winter coming on and I am frightened. I don't want to feel those stabs again. Invisible knifes were words and I felt all of the blood rush from my body. I felt a coolness invade me when they said "I'm so sorry." I was starting to warm up again, but now I feel it coming back. Part of me will never work again.
Night, night Frost
Mama loves you