drifting away

Every time that I get cold, my mind returns to the memory

That tucks itself away, and burrows out when chilly air

Pinches at the skin and sinks into my bones. The memory,

I’d given birth as the sun came up and now I’d braved

Leaving baby in his plastic cot, to let the water run

In rivulets, the pink tinged water circled in the plug.

But when I dried myself, that cold took hold as air blew through

The open window on the ward. The blood loss seemed to hit at once

And that was when the vision blurred, the shaking stopped

As something shifted deep inside, a slipping of the soul.

Heart rate hammered as I reached the place I slept, the place

Where the baby had been born, freshly made with starched white sheets

But now I’m sure it will also see a death, my soul is drifting

Hardly noticing that the baby’s gone. Reaching for the scarlet button

By the bed, the jug of water and the ‘well done’ card.

I had never thought of death before, but there I was, thinking

That he’d grow up on his own, looking at the aging photographs

And wondering what his mum was like, did she love him?

Why she had to leave?

7 thoughts on “drifting away

  1. crispina kemp

    Beautiful and poignant and a welcome share. So many things we keep to ourselves… like the thoughts that go through our heads when we’re on the brink of death

      1. crispina kemp

        I came close, and all sense of hope gone, I felt very calm, and thought, “Now’s to find out.” I was surprised when I recovered consciousness that I was still alive.

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