2 embryos, many fish and one sweet field mouse laid to rest here

 

Death,
like old age, 

hidden from us.

Tucked away,

out
of
view.

                                                                                                      A cemetery plot
on the way                out                   of                          town.
Or,

sometimes,

                                                                                                  a marble shrine in a resource rich community.

Like our elders,
/removed/                                  from         public

eye.

                                                                                                                           If we can’t see it,
                                                                                                                            we can avoid it.

——————————————–

 


The specter of pregnancy loss,

cuts through
our illusions of control.

I can’t outrun
life’s grasp.

Annihilation comes,
for all of us.

No one is in charge
here.

There is no ‘free will’
for changing the dial on our own expiration date.

We are beholden,
to something grander,
larger.

But what is beyond it?

We do not know.

So, today, I turn my head
and avert my gaze,
away from the violence for laughs
and the news for fear,
and instead
towards the reality of

the bitter in the sweet,
the agony in the ecstasy,
and all of the loss in life.

I tend to my Garden of Loss
like I tend to my crops.

Sheltering it from a hot sun, pruning it back,
giving it water, and encouraging
always encouraging
New
Growth.

I envision my two girls holding hands and playfully running forward