Precious One
My children are wee ghosts,
Invisible to another.
They are silent
Un-lived dreams.
“You were a promise” I shout out to them.
This hungry heart and green eyed monster startles me.
And its foreign and icy environment longs for the precious warm meeting of you.
I miss your beauty. I miss your messiness. I miss your innocence and your sacred milestones.
The loss is private.
I have a right to grieve this.
So stop resisting the intense pain
And pay homage to that which did not exist.
I mourn without apology.
I express deeply from the belly’s cavity
And acknowledge this wale from far away places without caveats or silver linings or shame.
This is an untarnished enterprise.
Seeds will sprout from this heartbreak I am told.
Allow the narrative to be verdant with all things.
My fate, My pilgrimage, My ripening......will hum with meaning toward a new Cycle of
Becoming and Thriving.
Paula Wise
