Papas

My Dad, your Dad, this is how they protect us. This is the warmth they give us. I wish you could have grown up with him. I wish that you could have become eachother.

Night, night Frost
Mama loves you

"songs I'd never learned"

Tonight has been for music. I will let this song speak for me.

Night, night Frost
Mama loves you

The Tower

I remember this day last year. This Monday. It was the day I missed the appointment that may have possibly saved you. It is the day where all of my guilt returns. It is the day that I will wish I could repeat forever.

I remember this day last year. This Tuesday when we pre-registered at the hospital we hoped to welcome you to the world in. The same hospital that housed our tiny memorial for you. This is the last day I remember excitement and future.

I remember this day last year. This Wednesday when your movements faltered. How we tried to make you move. How your sister called your name on my belly, and we thought we felt you kick. We were satisfied that you were just sleepy. This is the day I learned never to just wait again.

I remember this day last year. This Thursday when I saw you on the screen so different than the image we had watched kicking and wiggling before. Your body had fallen, and I knew before the words. This is the day I saw your Daddy break. He couldn't catch you before your fall. We couldn't soothe your sister's silence.

I remember this day last year. This Friday of your birth. You were brought to my arms still warm from my body. I hoped with everything that you were playing tricks on us from inside. I wanted them to be wrong so badly. You were silent and soft. And you fit into my arms perfectly, but you didn't look up into my face. You never saw my face. This is the day we could not bring you home.

I remember these days. These days ever since. These days spent in this tower. A tower I've built, high up from my hopes. I look down on them and see them scrambling among the fallen leaves, flitting from flower to flower. I see my hopes from these windows. I see them hiding in the snow and dripping from the eaves. I see them and I wonder, "if they are my hopes, why can I not catch them?" and then I answer, "Frost was my hope, that is why." These are the days when my heart has become a wind that I am forever trying to hold.

Night, night Frost
Mama loves you

Lately

I've been coming down with memories
the whats and whys of what happened
leave me wilted in winter
burnt by the snow

dark mornings are bright
with the same stars that foretold
but went unread

I've been drawing up a make believe profile
a nose set in stone
smelling the perfume
only angels can breathe

the wood of my dresser cracks
everyday it is older
it held the clothes of my mother and hers

I've been sleeping in questions
unanswered by pillows or night
I wake before the sun
so I will never find a hero

a baby is my hero
my rescuer
my life sent forth
to fill in the holes in the sky

a star went out that night

Night, night Frost
Mama loves you

In the Air

So many people have been saying your name lately, baby. They don't know it's your name. But it's nice to hear Frost said out loud by people everywhere. At least we have your name.

Your kitty is lying on the bed next to me right now. He just sighed the way I want to. How do animals get through their days without worry? I so wish that this was possible for me. But if they do it by just forgetting the things that came before, then I could never be a cat. I could never forget the you that was here, and the love that you left with us.

Night, night Frost
Mama loves you

December

This time is not supposed to come. A year is not supposed to happen this way. I should not have to measure your death. It should be your height, your weight, your new teeth. Each month you grew up away from me. A candle flicker is how I turn on a night light for you. A pebble in a rain puddle is how I give you a bath. A breath taken too deeply into my breast is how I feed you. I was looking for papers, I came across your clothes. Frost, you have clothes here on Earth. They are in a drawer and in a closet. They are crisp and new and sweetly miniature. They do not smell of newborn. They smell of cedar. The wood that preserves. But what good is the saving of something you never touched, never soiled, never slept in? What good is the preserving of my memory of buying the outfits when I thought that you would fill them, and play and kick and cuddle? I WANT TO SEE YOU WALK. I WANT TO HEAR YOU SAY MAMA. I WANT TO FEEL YOU SQUEEZE MY HAND. I want to know if you can see me cry. I want to know if my crying hurts you. If it does, I will stop. I don't want to hurt you. Some days I do stop, and people are satisfied. When I don't stop, when I can't stop, people are taken back to not knowing what to do. It's seems so much easier to change a baby's diaper than to mend an injured soul. I miss you terribly tonight, because I know that I love who you would be.
Night, night Frost,
Mama loves you