I am the silvery ice hanging from the rooftop, silent, sharp, strong.
Lean on me, but don't take notice that I am numb.
Please, dearest coldness, I implore you, stop my pain.
In an instant things happen.
A flash. A moment.
Time that cannot be taken back.
The heat, the fire, my enemy tried to take you from.
Burning and mauling, your beautiful sweet body, your face.
Now you, my baby, lay letting the machines live for you.
A child so innocent;
A father's guilt. An accident.
My beautiful 17th month baby girl.
Time froze as the roar of the ambulance whisked you away.
Only recognizable by the little hair ribbon in your hair, your face so swollen that your eyes were half moons.
Your ivory complexion was now thick, white and hard like dried candle wax.
I fell to the floor as the gurney was wheeled away.
My husband eyes were vacant. Stand up!
Get on with the motions; there is time enough later to deal.
Weeks gone by, as I listen to your machines. I watch your tiny chest rise and fall, perfectly timed.
All bandaged I cannot recognize you; but as your mother, I would know you anywhere.
I stroke your little exposed feet, ignoring all the tubes in and out.
I breathe, inhaling the scent of you.
My heart starts fill – warm, painful, overwhelming.
The injustice of you laying here…
STOP! Today is not the day to deal. Dearest frozen ice, where are you? I need you.
I cannot control the fire with in; and I am afraid that it will cause me to burst in flame.
Moment to moment is where I must stay, anesthetized and strong for the family.