21 years ago
I labored long
And ardently
To bring you forth
From my womb
Into the cradle of mankind
I was young
And you were my baby
My firstborn
My son

Your lips were the first to
Suckle at my breast
Your hungry little heart
Strong and brave
Making the first tugs
Blazing the gravity trail,
The drawing of my nipples
Downward
Back toward the earth
Toward the freshly shoveled soil
Where your little bones, now
Lay resting
Where your flesh
In death
Turned to dust
Before mine
ItÂ’s all mixed up inside me
Past
Present
Future
Cruel twist of
An upside down universe

I heard your first cry
As it summoned the mother in me
Instinctively drawn to care for you,
Protect you with all my love and power
I sparkled in the light
Of your first giggles
My soul danced with delight
When your first ethereal coos
Met with the air
And mingled there
Stored for eternity
In my dna
Threatening, at times,
To be a mortal wound

In this, my forty-second year
I wander
Sometimes aimlessly
Over memories
Hopes
Dreams
Of where you would be now
How the scenery of my journey
Might have been different
More vibrant
Or more subdued
This reality cannot show me
The parallels
The layers of other realities
(I picked you up
Before you took your last breath)
(I miraculously snatched you away
From the invincible grasp
Of the Grim Reaper)
Where you did not die
Where I was your champion, somehow
But I try to get there all the same
To catch a glimpse of you
Of us
Mother and son
Alas, I cannot see beyond the veils

In my grief
I forget, sometimes
And cry at nothing
Rail at no one
On the day you were born
(March 15, 1983)
And especially on the day you died
(June 4, 1983)
ItÂ’s like some psychic imprint -
The shock of discovering that you had gone away
And all that was left
Was a mottled little shell
Painted the color of death
And the horror
Of not being able to
Feel your spirit close by
Nor your hungry mouth seeking sustenance

My breasts still ache
In the wake of it

03/21/2004

Author's Note: I always get out of sorts this time of year, and I usually can't figure out why, until I remember PJ. He would have been 21 this year. He died of SIDS. This may need some revision, for I mean to capture how it felt for the brief time he was with me, the way his little spirit made an indelible impression in time....and how I know he exists still, in places I cannot see with human eyes.

Posted on 03/22/2004
Copyright © 2025 Alison McKenzie