no words to speak of the darkness
of the fear that i've got to walk this road alone
keep telling myself that i'm not alone
that others have walked this way before
that they've seen the darkness and lost their light
and kept going
and finally, gone on to live again and love again and laugh
yet i fear and there is nothing tonight that can ease this fear
the hunger in my arms returns
yearns to hold my child close
the dark cannot steal her away from me
i refuse to let her go
this fear may creep up my throat and steal my words
it may even cloud my sight
it will not take my child from me
yet every time her breath catches in her lungs
i shake
every time i see her legs begin to mottle i fear
when she sighs after the struggle to draw breath and clear the pathways of her frail lungs
the fear rises in me and i want to hold her tighter in my arms

tonight i read of a woman delivered this morning. her child did not live to see the nooning of the day, or the bright sun in the sky, or the clouded dusk. i grieve her loss and it makes me want to run to my own child, sleeping peacefully in bed, and snatch her up. it makes me want to sit by her side all this night and count each breath and weep.

but for the luck that brought me to my own doctor on april 28th, it would have been me in that hospital bed tonight. grieving. dying.