As I sit in the evening
with a child's tousled head
nestled in my lap
I think of what is gone.
"Be grateful for those you have"
they say
and I am.
Yet there is an eternal gap
an empty spot on the wall.
I gaze distractedly at the figures
frozen in time.
The images of my family
smile happily out at me
and there is sadness.
I think about my memories
frozen in time.
The little things that
mean so much.

And I restlessly sleep.

I startle awake
before a new day breaks
to the awful sound
of an infant screaming
in fear.
As my heartbeat calms
and I remember the truth
the burning tears come.
I shake the dreams away,
dreams where a tiny baby
with deep blue eyes
cries "Mommy, please stop.
It hurts. Mommy, please make them stop.
I'm so afraid Mommy
I don't want to die."
And I cry with my child
who had life stolen
before she could start.
I can't tell which is harder;
the dreams of a dying child
or the realization that she is gone.
Or the staring at the wall
and seeing the gaps
where there will be no memories
frozen in time.