You don't really know her

I bet she was excited,
the moment she found out.
I need to remember that.
I think she truly believed in forever
and that he would always stay
I need to remember this
I imagine she couldn't wait,
and thought he couldn't too,
a baby girl.
I bet she was happy when she was born.
Radiating, fufilled.
I need to remember that.

I can't know now,
what it feels like for her to look at her own daughter,
disintegrating, piece by piece, a slow death
when she once carried her in her womb.
I need to think of this.

But in  thinking of it... an open space emerges, and welcomes in the filling of it with thick sadness...
and the space threatens to open up more, widen and engulf everything else there is to me.
So I close it up again, sew it shut tight.

But if you don't even open it, delve into and examine the darkness then how can you ever find the light?

I think she must be so broken inside
to see everything she created
and everything she raised
so completely destroyed

I wonder at who she is
and how I came from her,
and my other half, how did she fall in love and trust him?
I wonder,
and feel such sadness when the disconnection remains steady and ever growing.
Once, I was inside her.
And now I practice severing that connection,
repulsed by its reality.

I must remember, that once she loved me, read me books.
Said no TV.  Eat your brocolli.
She taught me about the earth, the plants the wildflowers, the bees.
The birds in the sky, their names, their calls.
The dolphins, the whales, where they migrated on our tiny globe- it was placed on the piano next to the mouse cage.
She let me run free, climb in the trees.

I must remember this.

I must remember how to feel.
Open up and be real.
I must remember
I must heal.