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Baby Kate

Baby Kate

If no one else remembers, I do.

This is what I owe you
My baby
My Kate
My memory

It's that time of year
Again I retreat Slowly
First within closed curtains 
Darkened rooms
Under the covers
There are no dates or calendars needed
None that can define
How my mind drifts
My body slows
I cannot eat

You were real

I smell your newness 
In the oddest of places
Hear you breathe
The quickness of your heart 
Woke me last night
My body knows
For this month
It does not bleed

You were here

This is what I owe you
The kind that catches in my throat
Makes my spine ache
I curl into myself
To cradle the glory of birthing pains
To feel again those moments
I did not appreciate 
Until it was too late
Although I smile
I taste my own tears 
This too is a gift

You were mine

Baby Kate
You were so fine
Little fingers gripping
Holding on
The child
With a knowing face
And a woman's name
That came to me in a dream
Before I even had breasts
To feed you

My memory

There was fire in your eyes
Having not yet found their color
You focussed
Before you slipped away
What a woman you would have made
With my nose and these lips
Already adamant 
A head full of curls 
A Lioness' mane
An angry flush of color
Across those cheeks
That will to live
You would have surpassed me 
In so many ways

You were real
You were here
You were mine
My baby Kate

I asked if it was my body 
That failed you
Did I make your heart weak
They said all the right things
To reconstruct my fullness
Empty I remained 

But I knew and know this still
There will be no little girls for me
No ballet slippers on the floor
I can try and try and try again
This womb can bear no more

You were real
You were here
You were mine
This is what I owe you
My baby 
My Kate
My little girl
My memory

This poem

This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

Copyright © ©AvrgBlkGrl, 2013–2018. No part of this material may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, mechanical, electronic, or used in any other fashion without the express prior written permission of the owner. This manuscript is specifically written for Stories Space.

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