Tuesday, January 03, 2006

Maggie's Walls

I sit here in Maggie’s walls, spilling my tears, spilling my ink, baring my soul, and the blog page counter turns, and sleep escapes me.
Sleep is my chance to let go, but tonight I would give it to the Littlest Boy, as he knows he’s in his mama’s walls but not his mama’s arms and his mama is only a memory, so
we steal to the rocker, a winter of discontent
folding into each other, the familiar panic
and then the reassurances, mine for him and his for me.
I’ve grown used to his smells:
the warm smell of his baby sweat, the sour smell he gets
just before he gets the sniffles;
I know it’s crazy but I can smell anxiety
almost before it hits his heart.
His fear feeds my love for him, and hour by hour the rocker
creaks as I hold him, his hands demand me,
grasping my new bathrobe in his tiny but incredible hands.
His face pressed to my chest, so young yet so old,
like a tiny little man, face wrinkled and intense
he tenuously clutches sleep, his reach exceeding his grasp.
“Shh-shh-shh-shhhhhhh ... hush now,”
and I contemplate his wise old eyebrows, and I see a new bruise
I hadn’t seen before
check a scrape to make sure it’s now healed
the ghost of skinned knees past,
the spectre of the bruises yet to come...
I cry for his lost mama, and for my lost girlhood,
and for the memory of my empty arms.

3 comments:

Jenn said...

I am a kind of young mom. 35. I have/had three sons. My second child died when he was ten months old. It has been hard. Even though you aren't their mom, you are the only one they have now who fills that role. I am petrified, now having lost our second son, that one day, I'll be gone when they need me the most. Reading how it is affecting the littlest one and how it breaks your heart, reminds me of that feeling I often have; that worry.

I have begun a book for my son. He had a heart condition. I have left it unfinished for quite some time now. He died two and a half years ago. The part I left off on? It was a tough part of the road, it's hard for me to go back to it and I don't think I'm strong enough yet. I will finish it. So from one writer to another-you have a way with words. You should explore it professionally. I say that not knowing you or what you do. When I read your posting about Maggie's walls, it made me cry because it seems the reciprocal of what I live now. So sad. --

Cardman said...

Words are so hard to describe those types of feelings, but you do it so well. Littlest one will be fine because of your strength and love.

the Yearning Heart said...

jenoah, your ordeal made me cry! So young, so gone - but I know he had a happy life, short as it was, if he had you for a mother.

I hope you finish your book; I hope I start mine. Maybe this is the notes that I am writing to irganize one; maybe I'll end up writing a play, since my background is in theatre. I don't know. I'm delighted that you think I have talent.

Cardman, you're a gem, a real gem; thank you.