too much (and not enough)

 The one and only true remedy for grief is time.

If today is your first visit to Glow in the Woods
(and I'm so so sorry if it is)

I know that this is the last thing you want to hear
(but there's no way around it.)

Raw and devastated from the loss of your precious child
(still groping in the barren darkness)

Time is the one thing you have suddenly have far too much of
(and none of it is the kind you want.)

Little t-time
(the ever-present-now)
is impossible to deal with when all you want is their living body in your arms.


Time is also the one true enemy of memory
(and memory is our only connection to the little ones we lost)

If today is your hundredth plus visit here
(to this warm nook of love and understanding)

I'm sorry for that,
(but happy you've found this place, and hopefully some solace, too)

As veterans of the battle against the loss of memory
(and buried by time)

We know too well everything we don't have
(yet find a way to go on and on)


Time's balm eases memory into other forms.
(the stretch of midnight into dawn where no sleep waits)
The evaporation of now into memory makes our impossible lives livable.
(except in the dreams of insomnia where I can never find exactly what I need)
We hold on to one another
(too tight sometimes, too lightly others)
Until we feel life slowly refill our days and lives and hours together
(except for, always, our lost offspring)
who are forever apart.
(and forever a part)

Today is Lu's birthday and this poem is a gift to her, in honor of the beautiful son she carried for us. Please post your own poetry or prose poem or freeform stream of conscious word jam.  Write it to your partner or your lost child or to yourself or anything you want.  Aside from time, writing has helped to heal me the most.  What heals you?