It's 5 AM and I am not sleeping. I have been awake since yesterday morning. The house is black and still. I am alone in all the world. I stumble upon Billy Joel's Goodnight, My Angel, and I am dying. I perish in my heart and soul.
I call to mind the faces of my son and little daughter. I know their every freckle, every nuance. They make me see. To the forefront comes my first child and then fading, fading away.
In sibling shadows I visage my first, and thoughts of how deeply s/he was wounded flicker dangerously about. Like oil through a sieve they deluge all at once and disappear. I can't catch them in a cup or I will cease to exist.
Momentary notions of Planned Parenthood T-shirts, political platforms, deranged liberal advocates, inane arguments... bounce around in stinging barbs of laughter when I have fallen down. Meaningless all. Hollow evaporation.
Goodnight, my angel...
"Someday we'll all be gone
but lullabyes go on and on;
they never die.
That's how you and I
will be."
Tears stream down my face in unending rivulets.
I am there sitting here.
Its weight is upon me.
I listen to my infant daughter sucking her fist in the dark of the adjoining room...
I am overcome with love
and scarlet mourning.
