Voice Trembling.

She loves when the water burns her skin;

I think I soaked too long in boiling bath tubs.

Heat rising through my skin and into her tiny

incomplete body. She cries as much as I do;

our hearts too empathetic, our mouths wide open.

I wonder what else I’ve given her; will she

be tortured by nightmares? My hearts trauma

bleeding into the space that should be only hers?

Do we truly feel the burning of our past family members?

How much sadness can one generation alone hold...?

She loves when I sing to her; my voice trembling.

In whispers she tells me she can hear the sad that lives there.

Our tears fall in the same moment.

I can’t help but wonder, my daughter...

Do you feel everything I feel?

ReBecca DeFazio

More Than A Flower