
Around my birthday
Thirteen years ago
A tiny bundle of cells
Tangled in the wrong spot
Made a graceless exit
That packed a punch
Normal, natural, necessary
Still, I grieved
For a whole trot
Around the sun
Please do not
Feel sad or sorry
It is good to say
These things out loud
It is pretty much guaranteed
You have had scrapes
That bled more
But perhaps
Your heart did not break
With that nasty cut
As much as mine
Did that day
Twelve years later
My son, sprinting
Into the years
Of robust youth
Looking every bit
Like his father
Though there were/are
Some soft indications
My genes are
Somewhere in the mix
Left behind smallness
Soul sighed
At the inevitable transformation
Bringing into question
Practical reproductive decisions
(Logic and reason prevailed)
One night, Morpheus
Conjured a little sprite
Running through
Twilight fields
Eyes green
Dark spiral halo
Defying gravity
And hairbrushes
She laughed and dashed
I spoke her name
Calling out
Forest
Waking was a nightmare
For she was gone
Forever after that
My dream child lost
Stolen by faeries
To spend eternity
In Titania’s embrace
Even now, I ache for her
Strange how a vision
Became more real
Than that pin-sized
Handful of misshapen tissue
Today my son grows tall
More attitude seeps in
Calls me “bro”
On occasion
Which I DETEST
Ready for deodorant
(Really, really ready)
He is solid flesh
Vibrant tree reaching skyward
Rooted deep in my love
Perhaps some dreams
May be made whole
By hearts
Not yet broken
But mine has been broken
And broken
Yet here I am
Content with life
In all its messiness
Pain, odour, “bro”
I would not trade this existence
For a thousand daughters
Though sometimes
I do wish
That microscopic conglomerate
Had taken root
Sprouted into a sassy teen
Who would roll her eyes
Say rude shit
To get under my skin
Live a real life
Really loved
By her mother
Who dreamt her name
Long after she was
Never born
About the Creator
Aspen Marie
In love with life and all of its foibles.
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