The Child In My Arms
There is a part of me that still grieves.
Do you see her? Can you hear her?
She is there by the corner, weeping.
A small disappointed child.
Try as I might with words to console her,
They fall like dead weights on the ground.
She would not stop crying.
So instead, I just hold her.
And hold her, and hold her, and hold her,
Until my arms are drenched with her tears.
Her tiny frame shuddering in my embrace.
Only time will heal the open wound in her heart.
Even then it will forever leave a mark.
A reminder of this time.
(Bowie, Maryland/November 12,2007/5: 22 A.M.)