.

days, dreaming of reunion with you.

      I write to cleanse myself,

      To release the river of sorrow

      That circles and sometimes swallows me.

      I write to remember the instants of acceptance,

      A stream of light entering my imprisoned heart.

      I write to liberate us both,

      To continue our communication

      Despite your eyes that never opened,

      Your eyes that never met mine.

      I write so that these words of love and yearning

      Live longer than those that have fallen from my mouth,

      Praying that you hear me now

      Or maybe on some tomorrow

      Out of my hands

      Out of my time.

      I write for women who know this

      Unbearable

      Unspeakable

      Irreversible separation.

      The desperation of clinging to sand

      On that lonely shore

      Where the ocean simply

      Continues its rise and fall,

      Persistently pushing and pulling us into a new day

      Even when we thought we'd run out of ways

      To live with this absence.

      I write to relive the moments

      That were only yours and mine,

      To touch again

      Your fragile skin,

      Your delicate head,

      To carefully lift your fingers one by one

      Gently wrap them around my thumb.

      I write to engrave you in memory,

      To mark your place in our family.

      I wake at dawn or wait for night

      To have that sacred quiet

      Where I can be alone with you,

      Allowing the silence to open me up

      And expose line by line

      The feelings and thoughts

      Caught in the safety-net

      Of daytime composure.

      At last I can drop the task

      Of choosing when and when not

      To mention your name

      Of suppressing the impulse

      To blurt it out to strangers.

      Not lying or denying,

      Simply not saying.

      I write to run from forgetting,

      To purge myself from the paralysis

      Of knowing you are gone

      Yet refusing to let go.

      I write to calm my fear

      Of losing all trace of you.

      I write to draw myself out

      Of the dark well of doubt.

      I write to come to peace

      With you being there

      And my not yet knowing where

      I write to keep myself

      And you, my baby,

      Alive.

      22nd September, 18h28

      I am lying in a doctor's examination room with my eyes fixed on the ultrasound monitor. Where once I saw her suspended in stillness, today I see the perfection of a son, swimming within me. I feel a deep delight as I watch his movements, hear his persistent heartbeat. Part of my heart sinks silently too, now that it is clear no daughter will follow her. She was the only one.

      Almost seven days ago, a close friend died of cancer. Life and death circle around me. I try to find my feet in each day, knowing there are many ways to cry, that life goes on after the body decays and that our spirits are what matters most, while we live. I feel blessed and stretched anew.

      3rd October, 10h30

      In my backyard

      Stands a gnarled old peach tree stump

      Determinedly growing new branches,

      Sprouting baby-pink flowers,

      A shower of innocence

      At Nature's command –

      It's Spring!

      Buttercup yellow sprays out

      From the bush in the corner,

      Between spiky green leaves

      Baby's breath, white above the ferns

      Sways in the wind

      Down below the loquat tree

      Almost at the centre of my garden

      Miniature lilac daisies with yellow hearts

      Blossom for Iman.

      Where do I place my sadness?

      What must I do?

      Let it sit within me till it overflows from my eyes

      unexpectedly?

      Or let it come between an ordinary day and me?

      What can I say that hasn't been said before?

      2004