So Here I Sit, in Dust & Ache

Another form of grief unlocked - On the coinciding timing of an emotionally significant remodel project and a medically necessary surgery - together the only places our twins ever were.

This week the walls are coming down,
Tiles will be shattered on the ground.
A long-planned change, a fresh, new start,
Yet all it does is break my heart.

This bathroom, this space, where my body gave way,
Where I brought the twins earth-side, where I begged them to stay.
Where love filled the air, thick as my cries,
Where I whispered I’m sorry, where I said my goodbyes.

This bathroom is where my twins were delivered,
Where silence loomed, where love lay withered
Not crying, not breathing, just still and small,
Laid gently beside the tub, I remember it all.

The shock, the silence, the cold of the floor,
The moment I knew they’d be mine nevermore.
This is where I took what felt like my last breath,
The only place that I held the babies in death.

In the cruelest twist of fate,
My body, too, will change around this date.
The womb that held them, now must go,
The only place they’d ever know.

No longer a home, no longer a part,
A wound reopening deep in my heart.
They say time heals, but can it restore
A place, a womb that exists no more?

More broken, more lost, more untied from the past,
More afraid that my memories won’t always last.
Because if the floors can be changed, if my body can too,
What proof is left that they were ever brand new?

So I stand in the dust, in the wreckage and ache,
Let the tiles crumble, let my heart break.
Because grief is a ghost that won’t let me be,
And love is a whisper only I still can see.

They say this change will help me heal,
But tell me, what if the pain feels too real?
If love was here, and now it’s not,
What happens to the things forgot?

So here I sit in dust and ache,
Wondering what else time will take.
And as this space turns into something new,
I whisper, babies, I will always carry you.