I remember your arms around me,
But I can’t remember you.
I remember you were important to me,
But I can’t remember you.
You were born just minutes before me,
But you were less than four pounds,
Dying before you even got the chance to live.
I remember they buried you,
But I can’t remember you.
I remember they named you Ian,
But I can’t remember you.
What happened to you inside our mother?
They say you were old enough to dream, to feel.
Did you hurt, Ian?
I know I loved you,
But I don’t remember you.
About the Creator
Mack Devlin
Writer, educator, and follower of Christ. Passionate about social justice. Living with a disability has taught me that knowledge is strength.
We are curators of emotions, explorers of the human psyche, and custodians of the narrative.
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