:: The S.I.C.L.E. Cell ::

my view from the prison of a SICLE (Self-Imposed Child Loss Experience) due to debilitating maternal disease
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:: Sunday, August 15, 2004 ::

Here I am again.
Working on the book.
Reliving the horror.
My own personal story.
All at once it is too much.


Quicksand I am sinking in.
I grab at anything to stay above the surface.
I fail.
Tears well but do not drop.
I swallow them.
Tonight it is not allowed.
My milk lets down instead,
and I remember the third day...
when a warm shower
produced alabaster life for a dead child.
I slipped down the drain forever and ever.
Yet here I stand,
one foot each
in yesterday and today.
The clock beats like a lingering heart.
It keeps time
for invisible strains
I am humming to a little one
who is not here.

:: ashli 5:15 AM # ::

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