To a Daughter at
School in Uvalde
I nursed you
for one full year.
At your conception,
my entire spirit and
every cell of my body
built you, a new being,
soul inserted in
the usual mystic
process.
How my mind
ignited like fireworks
with your creative
ways. I kept
forming your
childhood with
all the ingredients
of mothering.
But now
my arms droop
bereft of you,
little one.
I try to somehow
comprehend the vacant
world you left behind,
the wind trailing out
letters in your name,
the bright songs you were
meant to sing,
I imagine
marvelling at art
you never got to tease
out of a pencil.
In the back-
yard I’m planting
wildflowers you loved
for colour and pollinators
and a reflective
ball where I only
see my alone-
ness there by the
cat grave and foxgloves,
dividing me from
you forever.
I want to
believe you
linger close by
but purpling clouds
and mourning dove
melodies say you have
slipped back into
Mystery
and who knows
where desperate
thoughts and prayers
quicken to action
or lay restless as
bullets in
this shuddering world?
Still, I nursed you.
Wherever you go,
so goes the milk
remembering my
breasts.
my poem about the recent school shootings
Jennifer Pratt - Walter - is a poet, musician and novice photographer, making her way by pondering the small or simple things and helping them sing.
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