Our Amara |
by Liesel J. Collins |
Amara Roselani Collins |
“Bad news,” he said. Bed rest till my ninth
month, I thought. “No, really bad news,” he said. But she’s alive! I feel her still! But in a while she will be still. Crying in the labor room, 20 weeks-not home free. Anticipating the coming gloom, My child died inside of me. At first I didn’t want to know who you were. I thought to protect my heart. I thought this was smart. But once I delivered you, my world changed, you see. You are my baby girl, Who lived and died inside of me. Far away I saw you held by a stranger who can never tell how it felt to have you, Living and wiggling inside of me. I named you Amara. To me you are Eternally beautiful. Your middle name Roselani. To me you are heaven’s Rose. God’s will-will be done. There is a reason believes everyone – Except me- Why you died inside of me. Some say it hurts to see me cry. It hurts me more my child has died. Instead of taking you home with me, I was given a box. A memory box they call it. But nonetheless a box. A box that I cherish and hold kiss and cry upon. A box I’ve been told I should not look often on. But in it are precious things I hold very dear, your photographs, footprints, and handprints. I yearn to have you near. Your tiny cap and cape. Each has a little stain. A memory of you, a memory of my pain. And now I’m at home, feeling empty and alone. Your little grave I soon will see, my beautiful baby who died inside of me. They say I will see you, someday very soon. God please save my soul And fill this empty hole. Goodbye, I love you My Amara Your father loves you, too. Until tomorrow... my beautiful baby who lived and died inside of me. |
Written by Liesel J. Collins on June 14, 2003
Dedicated to Amara Roselani Collins, daughter of Jeffrey L. and Liesel J. Collins, who died on May 27, 2003. |