Wow what a spectacle.
Not like a bad drama.
More like an amazing circus producton which you feel is fiction yet turns out to be real, beautifully real.
Somehow like Karma but more surreal.
Her name was Tracy once again.
Funny how she saved your sticker.
How through all the pain things stayed the same until after many rolls of the dice “Snake eyes.”
A million languages may affiliate my circumstances but non rival the feelings of seeing those tiny appendages.
You take one look at the colour of my eyes. The colour of my skin or how I speak and presume to know me.
Judge me by how I run a warehouse or how I store goods.
Walk away friend.
I’ve seen more than I should and drank tears from spilt blood.
When you ask my opinion of you judging me – it’s not good.
Buona Fortuna! Spilt blood.
I’ve missed you and mourned you,
couldn’t kiss you to adore you.
I’ve tricked me to ignore you, from the first, last and every day that you weren’t born.
I’ll never stop.
Today was a new scan.
Her name was Tracy.
Their was a heartbeat on the screen and they are in the right place.
She’d kept the sticker my daughter gave her.
It was a year later.
She’d remembered from the paper.
No sound, no movement, she turned the monitor around.
Full heartbeat, twinkle street.
A little being, my baby, now waiting to meet.
Summer sun, roasting day.
Tracy asked if she knew the baby.
Heartbeat inside mummy she replied.
Something stirred behind her eyes.
Parental ties I realise come with strings I harmonize.
I realise the innocent truth of having you and needing you.
Love is shared and squared then multiplied.
It’s all for you I’m stupified, it’s never gone as love can’t lie.
Even when they don’t live or die.
There’s two angel’s yet I’ve not said.
Who’ve healed every wound I bled.
Who aid me on this road of life.
One’s my daughter.
One’s my wife.
No matter what the night may bring or who may come or anything.
Remember from all after or gone.
You’re both my world.
You’re both my sun.
© G.P Williamson 2017