The first time I died shortly after I was born. Kept my limbs and flesh even breath in my lungs
and yet that child’s hand got stuck forever
on iron cot bars. A joyful bundle wrapped in hospital gown they brought her in
and gagged her mouth
put needles and fear in her arms there was no light
yet her heart was beating for fast She cried
anger spewing out of her mouth
the scream, the demand, the ignored grasp those callous women walking by in white there was not even the ghost
no stranger yet
floating in her eyes She sat
pain spreading in her blood syringe and medication instead of mother’s arms
no nest, no hug.
In her baby mind
it was a life for a life.
Like a vampire
sorrow sucked at her heart Little sobs through infant’s eyes unable to shout
only those tears and loneliness drowning her now.
She wept
for she was not loved. I remember her
looking past the door forever shut despairing and dying
her words numbly lopping around Grey shadows dancing by
her fragile soul in their arms So she laid down
with maggots crawling by
earth in her eyes,
on her chest and baby gown. Wooden cubes of all she mourned finally shattered around
She believed she was not good enough to deserve, to plead,
to be alive.She is I.
The daylight pulls me in now and I loose the thread,
but never its touch.
My son’s tiny palms
gently pressed on my confused heart bring her back to life.
Sylvia Farkasovska