Separated from you physically
Wrap you up neatly in memory
Do anything with this hole in me
That only you could fill
I will never be walking
The way I used to walk this path
Now that I am walking without you
12th March, 09h35
Cigarettes put me in touch with my pain
Catch my breath
Coat my throat
I wrap my feet in new shoes,
My overweight body in new clothes
Dark and discreet.
Hair uncovered,
Toenails deep red,
Frida Kahlo feelings bleed
Into my heart and head.
16th March, 08h45
Blinded from my vision
Of a horizon
Including you
I feel my way into each day
I run
I hide
I collapse
I howl inside
My chest heaves
I smoke
Just barely keeping the breath flow
Oh, my baby, where did you go?
18th March, 19h37
Floating in and out of faith,
Disconnected,
I try to feel you, my baby,
But find myself absorbed instead
In my own sorrow at losing you
You tore my world in two
As earthquakes do.
20th March, 19h37
This is where the road separates
Those who have been there
And those who have not
Those who know
Drown in fresh air
In company
In shopping malls and parking lots
In circles of sympathizers
In the morning
At any given moment
In the middle of the night
Despite the love
Of those around me
I drown
In the silence
Rain cloud hanging heavy
Above the traffic of my thoughts
Around my still pounding heart
I drown
In the silence
Permeating my womb
23rd March, 10h25
I am so sore, but refusing to cry – again. I need solitude, but don't want to be alone. I am tired, but avoiding sleep. I do not want to run from thoughts of you or to escape this intense aliveness death has brought me.
9th April, 16h0
I light a candle for you, little-one-of-great-impact. You have reshaped me. Throughout my pregnancy you filled me with possibilities, a mother's blind projections. Now with equal force you have abruptly changed my direction. You are a fire burning strong and low. You have returned, only in spirit, to remind me that you did not come to bring me sorrow. Sorrow is not why you came.
17th April, 10h3
Of all the tormenting pictures in my head, the image of your body, your blood draining from your limbs, your face, collecting in your cavities, still brings me to my knees. Blood, rose-red peeping from your lips, ears, nose, umbilical cord, from between your legs. I am stained with this imprint of your physicality Blood curdling cries race through me, a sound stream of desperation. I ache for a tangible trace of you.
21st April, 20h03
Bongiwe, my beloved daughter,
My precious unseen one,
I take each step
In memory of you.
My body claims its breath
As yours no longer does.
My heart beats on
While yours is gone.
Bongi, my beloved one,
I am tossed,
I am torn,
I am stretched,
I am tested at each turn.
I keep moving, in honour of you.
I move because life and love surround me,
Urge me on.
Sometimes
I wonder
What you would wish
For me.
26th April, 10h26
Seven times in one day, seven conversations all about you, the all-round impact of you, my little Iman Bongiwe. Many times it was a comment about yearning to connect with you or asking where you are that started the tears. Yet now, a quiet morning after, I feel a release from the intensity of that wound. Me all around you, you all around me, in a way I have not recognized till now. I even project what “ feeling connected” with you should be like. I imagine what sensations, what scenario will unfold. I don't know what form or sign I expect. What evidence am I waiting for that will bring the feeling of being consciously connected to you, my angel? I wait. I cry. I battle to digest the possibility that you never actually left me, that you are an enormous gift I simply struggle to receive. I ache to feel your presence, but then I reflect on each day and see that you have permeated every step.
28th April, 22h45
My lower back remembers. My breasts remember. My feet remember. When I see the thin film of sweat on my forearms, my eyes linger on the hair there. Your fragile forearms were covered with fine hairs too, an obvious beautiful affirmation that you came from me. The air I breathe thickens with memories.
1st May, 12h38
I'm navigating in and out
Of mental combat
Trying to figure
Exactly what station I've pulled into,
How to answer that simple question
How are you?
An invisible earthquake dulls my senses.
I hear myself speak
From a distance,
See their eyes blur in sympathy
Feel their embraces
Even in my suspension
From within the torn earth
Of my body
Which bears your death followed by your birth
Comes a gasp or a howl, or a laugh.
Sometimes I shrink into my jacket.
I wave goodbye and walk away.
There is nothing more to say.
3rd May, 00h05
Tonight I sit in the same Lazy-boy chair that I occupied so often in those last weeks of pregnancy, facing in exactly the same direction, pre-occupied with the same distraction – TV. Hours pass as my chest quietly gets heavier and heavier, till I have to switch the TV off. Silence settles in the darkened room. Finally I allow the sadness to sink