In the nook of my neck, buttermilk skin of newness, closeness, an extension of me.
Not apart but be part – of me again, where it’s safe
I consume with greed, as if soon to be starved by famine.
This world is cruel, I’m sorry sorry sorry.
With a whisper that lacked conviction, but soaked in courage, I said goodbye.
It’s OK, if it’s just too hard, if it hurts too much, you can let go.
I love you, don’t hurt anymore.
I will miss you everyday of my life, my sweet sweet boy.
But if you need to go, I will be OK,
You don’t have to fight anymore.
I wept at finality’s ugliness. It brutality, its injustice.
But you looked at me,
Two big dark brown eyes peering through Bambi lashed, relief? A thank you? Thank you for letting me go?
I hadn’t listened with my heart, your gaze was of comfort, of reassurance.
Mummy I’m here, don’t let me go, I’m not leaving.
The seizures stopped.
The warmth of skin on skin, the stories whispered, the kisses left.
The powerful relentlessness of love.
Forty-eight hours of pure embrace, loved you back to us.
Seven days young, round-one bell rang loud, put down your gloves my child, catch your breath.
Tomorrow a picture will tell a thousand words.