The hardest part

was not the silence

rather than a soft thump

nor the absence of movement

instead of a kick

or having to push out

my lifeless second born.

The hardest part

was explaining to

my tearful three year old

why he wasn't going to be

a big brother.

one night

something inside

my body ruptured

my hospital stay

cost hundreds of dollars

but by far

the most terrifying part

was watching a young woman

in my same

hospital gown

admit to the nurse

she didn’t want

to live anymore

and my pain

paled against

her empty gaze

He looked into his sons eyes and held back tears as he knelt by the little bed.

The machines chirped.

"Where am I going when I die dad?"

His atheism had been a badge of honor until now.

Tears streamed uncontrollably now. He began to tremble.

"Heaven buddy."

My Golden got cancer at age five. Mouth pain warranted a vet visit.

At work the call came: “Cancer. Inoperable,” he said. I broke down and stared outside.

Four weeks later, I sat with Murphy on my lap.

The vet cried as he gave the shot.

So did I.

I hate you.

You didn't raise me.

You tolerated me.

We both grew older.

My heart grew colder, and I drew further from you.

Hoped I'd never see you again.

Then I got the call.

"You're mother's dying"

When their words stopped, I couldn't stop crying.

I love you.

cradling -

allows no separation.

gotta hold you

to my breastplate

so our hearts can learn to beat the same.

we’re going to make the same mistakes-

i’ll hate who you become,

despise the reminder of self.

you should call me murder,

mother is for women who love their daughters.