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I’ve not been writing at all lately. Mainly because I’m afraid of it. Sometimes it just makes me feel worse to write.
I did, however, pen this little poem after seeing a photo of my lovely daughter, taken when it was all still fresh:I wake up… her forehead pressed to my chin a comfort fleeting as it all comes rushing back. I gently break contact so I can see my features in her dreaming face. Her calm breathing tells me she’s still in that place still, safe and warm. Contentedly dreaming of thick green meadows… love, laughter, joy. Where grandmothers bake cookies and give warm, soft hugs Instead of losing hair, strength, legs, mind… Where little brothers giggle and play Instead of silently dying before her innocent eyes. And the mother bird in me realizes the lie of my own protective powers. And as her eyelids flutter like a sparrow’s wings, it’s time to be strong again… (another lost cause) I wrap my arms around her “Five more minutes, ok…?”