I had plans once, Isabella
I had plans, once.
They were simple, really.
Paint a room, refinish a rocking chair
Knit some booties.
There has not been a reason to follow through
Seeds have not started to grow
I gave you a second chance, a third, to show.
Sometimes I feel it like a plague
Other times my feelings are hazily vague.
Some months the sight of that blood brings bright, spiky pain
Others, I feel a contempt for the fool that I have been again.
The sorrow that I have could fill up a lake
Sometimes it’s a lot to take
And then there are times
When I think of all those plans
They stand boldly contrasting the life I have lived,
I have to think that this is the way it’s supposed to be
Even though it’s not what I thought I wanted
There’s nothing wrong with me,
And I am thankful
Thankful even for the sorrow of your loss by default
Because it defines me, Isa,
And you’re still in my heart, in the vault.
C 2006 Sheila McMahon