This may be a horrible idea but I was inspired by a fellow blogger and decided to share a poem that I wrote shortly after Flynn died. Although I do not claim to feel this poem with the same intensity as when it was written, I have experienced other times in my life when this poem could be applicable. So without further adieu:
Staring blankly and still you ask me how I am?
I am ripped into this moment to engage with you. I am aware that you await my response.
Your sweet smile is registered in my reluctant brain as insincerity.
"How are you?"
What if I were to tell you that I am being tortured by the thoughts of my child? My arms ache in the absolute emptiness they carry.
Would you understand if I explained that my swollen, bloodshot eyes are the result of my weeping in the middle of the night?
I feel an insatiable urge to stop you from smiling.
What if I responded by telling you that I feel betrayed by my body at it's unwillingness to carry my son? That I only see ugliness in it's barren landscape.
Did you know that some days I wish this could all just end? And yet there is a profoundly absent how?
It is just a wish not a plan.
The sadness is so full and dark that it engulfs me, it holds me hostage to my memories, too raw in their vividness.
Is this question "how are you" a morbid curiousity into how sad I can be? You would not like my answer.
Every morning is a challenge to exist and every evening is filled with dread of another morning without my baby.
I look at you, only a second has passed, I smile politely and tell you I am fine...
© Melissa Lambert, 2002
There you have it, a look into my mind through poetry. Tell me what you think? Is poetry an appropriate outlet? Is it too uncomfortable or exposed? I am interested to hear your thoughts on this form of expression.