The nausea, the uneasiness,

The itchy, scratchy, nervous

Tense, unsettled, shifty, twitchy,

Wondering – “WHAT is it?

WHAT is eating at me?

WHY do I feel like

I cannot settle anywhere?

WHO is it that I want to be with?

HOW can I get through the day?

What? What? What? I ask

Over and over

And come up with nothing.


And then,

I catch a fleeting glance

Of the calendar page

Turned to May

And it becomes clear.

Even when the mind forgets

The body remembers.

Oh, does it ever remember.

So it is the day I flew

Into New York with

My two year old

Ready for a week-long

Vacation visiting friends

And family.


It was 19 years ago

When those simple

Ordinary, lovely plans

Turned into sirens

And screams and trauma,


And defribulators

Tubes and pumps

Bleeps and numbers

The likes of which

None of us had

Ever dared to imagine.


We prayed

And asked

Friends and

The universe to pray.

I begged

Prostrating myself

On the ground

And then over

His lifeless body,

On the gurney,

Smothering myself

Into his silky chest

Burrowing into

His essence,

Promising to love

And to cherish

My baby

In whatever

Shape he

Was returned to me.

The Gifts of God

For the people of God,

I thought.


Tomorrow is coming,

Quickly tonight.

And then it is the day

That we went to visit

The friends with the swimming pool

And though, they were

Never really friends

They became forever

Etched upon our minds

When they left that gate

Open to the lethal sink-hole

That stole my baby’s life


And stole our hearts

And our souls

For even longer.


I relive the moments

That lead up to

The crescendo

Every single year.

It is not possible

To not.

The anxiety is


The PTSD symptoms

Are classic.


It is only

When the plugs

Are pulled

And the sun comes up

And I kiss his cold

Sweet, delicious

Blessed, divine,

Innocent, milk filled body,

Taking not one single breath,

That it is done.