Stillborn

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: August 06, 2018

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Submitted: August 06, 2018

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Another night is drenched in silence.

Shadows tremor with me, grieving for my unborn son.

The night’s heavy air

smothers me. Tears fall

like dew on a glazed summer night. Days

fall away while I suffocate in a nursery that is empty.

 

Did I suffocate him? In a womb that is now empty…

Stale nursery. Fetid, reeks of silence.

Grey-blue paint dripping off these walls, weeping with me. In a daze,

I will wait out this night, until this sonless room is filled with sun.

Why do leaves fall?

Winter’s cruelty so easily frosts their fallen corpses and ices the funeral air

 

He would have warmed the unfriendly air,

filled a room with bubbling laughter, and left the cookie jars empty.

Maybe he was too pure for this tainted world… too innocent for The Fall.

Cradled in grief, weeping in a rocker, breeding silence

and misery, I wait for an answer from the Son

of God. How can I live for years when my son did not live his first few days?

 

And my husband, I’ve forgotten him… He spends his days

in unfeeling, obscured by a muddy smog that assaults the air.

He blames me for our loss, the death of our Son.

He blames me with empty

words about “eating enough” and “we will get through this,” but the silence

between his anesthetized love betrays me like winter betrays the leaves of Fall.

 

Season of decay. I will always remember the way Fall

strips the youth off the trees as easily as it robbed me of my light… The day’s

light bows to its treachery. I will always remember the melancholic silence

that was supposed to be broken by waves of shrieking. The air

soured and the nurses’ anemic pity overwhelmed me. “R.I.P. M.T.”

The image of his baby gravestone still haunts me. Oh, my son…

 

Still quaking in a weak, wooden chair. The sun

smirks through the window. Still, another Fall

day leaves me feeling empty

without him. Still, foul days

ahead of me – I dread them. No light, no heir,

no purpose finds me. I am dowsed in crippling silence.

 

One Fall day, I will go to his baby grave and rest moss and a dais’,

and kiss the harsh ground that blankets my son, my only heir.

Not today. Today cruel, empty reality will blur me… in stifled, grey silence.


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