Polly

Writings and Witterings

Born

20 Comments

Each year, since 23 May 1973,
she remembers the child who never was.
The child who is and never was.
She hears the nurse say, ‘don’t look.’
Could anyone not look?
As if by not looking, he could be forgotten.
Forty years on
the shroud of grief cobwebs yet;
tightens her chest, tautens her neck.
Babe dead, mother dying inside.
She still sees his fingernails, perfect hands and feet.
Legs curled, foetal, just
as he lay inside her.
Still wanted, still loved, still missed.
Each year she thinks of the child
who never was.

Polly Stretton © 2012

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20 thoughts on “Born

  1. That is very sad. Not really much more I can say about that.

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  2. Oh Polly… much love and hugs.

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  3. Very moving, very raw feelings. I have a friend who gave birth to twins, one alive and one dead. Each year, while celebrating the birthday of the surviving twin, she mourns the loss of the other. I don’t think she will ever forget either!

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  4. So much emotion Polly, well written. Best.

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  5. I echo what Danny said. It is raw …

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  6. oh heck…that brought tears to my eyes…

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  7. Wow. How powerful. Wow.

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  8. Sadness that makes a permanent mark…

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  9. Heartbreaking, Soul-breaking –

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  10. No words Polly ~ powerfully written … so incredibly sad ~ x

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