Your backward non-existence.
The ignorance of your destruction.
You **** the breath
from our family.
inducing heaviness into everything
beat by beat
you dragged away dreams,
bit by bit
you tore the cord,
selecting to rid the choice
that connected a life to itself
and its beauty.
And,
in frustration
we tried to get at you;
cutting, inserting, scarring.
But we can't recreate you
Any-more than we can rid the pain of your absence
and,
in your absence
as instinctive as the hole that grew
between the chambers,
a mother relieved her grief and
a baby was born
to pre-fill the hole and
to re-honour the grave
so as I hate you
I must thank you:
But believe me here
It will only ever stretch as far as for
my name.