Tuesday, February 10, 2009

For a Stillborn by Marisa de los Santos

For a Stillborn

You haven't left me empty but too full
of children, every possible of you. 
To love each one could make my heart go dull, 

but still I try and sing each night to lull
shut eyes of green and black and gray and blue. 
You haven't left me empty but too full

of singing (my throat burns). I feel the pull
of tiny nursing mouths. I'm hungry, too, 
to love each one. What makes a heart go dull

as sunstruck eyes? (I've learned the sun can fool:
it rises and we think that day is new). 
You haven't left me empty but too full

of mornings, all my infants' wakings, all
their cries. My arms can only lift a few. 
To love each one will make my heart go dull. 

In not becoming one, you now are all.
I wish (a thing I know I shouldn't do)
you hadn't left me. Empty and too full, 
my love, my heart refuses to go dull. 

[Schew. I'm revisiting this poem since I first read it over 6 months ago, and my heart refuses to go dull. I'd like to know if this poem is from personal experience, though. I checked her website and it has no mention of her losing a child. But no matter, it still speaks to me.]

No comments:

Post a Comment