The Sprout

Poem: Remember me

Postiwyd gan archifCLICarchive o Cenedlaethol - Cyhoeddwyd ar 26/05/2010 am 12:17
4 sylwadau » - Tagiwyd fel Ysgrifennu Creadigol

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I remember clearly thinking; she’s going to die.
That’s the one clear thought I remember.

I was sitting by the hospital bed,
in an uncomfortable plastic chair that dug at my back.
Watching, waiting, hoping, knowing.
I remember seeing her face; eyes closed,
face red from effort, hair sweaty,
hands sweaty too, or the one I was holding at least.

Tubes spilled from her like some obscure alien.
It was then that I thought “She’s going to die”.
Blood, there was so much of it.
A river of blood seemed to have sprouted from her.
It was a wonder that she was still alive.
I hoped and prayed, but I knew it was in vain.

“Come on, you can do it” the doctor had said,
jabbing another needle into her bruised arm.
Finally after six hours of strain she had pushed,
pushed and pushed; pushing the life out of her.
And then a baby, no a monster fell from her.

With the final sap of her strength,
her ocean eyes found my own.
Her broken body shifted only slightly,
“Remember me” her voice had whistled,
then her eyes had shut and life left her.

The heart monitor fails, a final mournful,
bleep bounces through it.
My eyes shut, but I’m beyond tears.
“Sir here take your daughter” a kindly nurse pushes a small soft bundle into my arms.
My heart skips a beat,
I look into my daughters eyes and I

I cry,
tears swim and I cry.

“You look just like your mother” I whisper.
Her hair a thick mound of black,
contrasts beautifully with her eyes.
Her mother’s eyes,
it’s then that I stop feeling bad for myself,
and start feeling sorry for my child.

She will never know the love of a mother,
the warmth from my wife’s eyes.
I decide then that I will be the best father I can,
to make up for this child’s loss.
To make her life special, like her mother’s.

For advice and information on separation and loss, please click here or talk to Meic.

IMAGE: Niffty