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Tracie Mason

Undreaming

I'll never see
your tiny hands
reach out
for anything at all
I'll never see
your father's eyes
shine blue in the sun
I'll never know you
boy or girl
or feel your soft embrace
I'll never hold you
back from pain
or tell you to put on your gloves
in the cold
But maybe I'll be part of that
seventy-five percent
who never remember it happening
but never forget it happening,
whose lives move past it happening
slowly with tear stained pillowcases
and demon-filled bedclothes
and an empty womb where you had slept
but how could I ever forget you,
silently living and dieing
while I wept
for the nothing that I had to give you
for the life for you that I once dreamt
but could never give
for life, this thing
you'll never live