Birth Parent Grief
My nights were broken Half asleep I would stumble Awake
I wondered Or if those tears © 1995 Brenda Romanchik
Split by the wail
of my phantom baby’s cries
to the crib that wasn’t there
Aware now
I would return
To my bed
With empty,aching, arms
as I hugged my pillow close
And rocked myself to sleep
If you were out there
Truly crying
If your cries had somehow traveled to me
If you were now being rocked and comforted by another
And cries
were welling up
from a place deep inside me
And spilling into my dreams.