February 10, 2009

• The Rainy Day

  The Rainy Day

  The day is cold, dark, and dreary;

  It rains, and the wind is never weary;

  The vine still clings to the mouldering wall,

  But at every gust the dead leaves fall,

              And the day
  is dark and dreary.

   

  My life is cold, dark, and dreary;

  It rains, and the wind is never weary;

  My thoughts still cling to the mouldering past,

  But the hopes of youth fall thick in the blast,

              And the
  days are dark and dreary.

   

  Be still, sad heart, and cease repining;

  Behind the clouds is the sun still shining;

  Thy fate is the common fate of all,

  Into each life some rain must fall,

              Some days must be dark
  and dreary.

   

  -Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

   

  Dying on the living room couch. 

            Rain soaked tennis shoes. 
  

  Door leading to the backyard. 

           Abdominal cramps lingering. 
  

  Saturday, 7:30pm. 

          
  

  Three-day old oceans of puddles.

           Persistent storm. 

  Icy chill in the air outside. 

           My husband’s shiny black car. 

  
  

  Heavy painful bleeding. 
  

           Rushing past stoplights.

  La Palma Avenue.
  

           The hospital emergency room. 
  

  Blue Cross Blue Shield.

           Clipboard.  Sign
  here.  Sign there.

  
  

  Husband strong but worried. 
  

           Finding a good vein on my wrist. 

  Viles and viles of blood drawn. 

           Cold and naked under my hospital gown. 

  Thick blood like red dyed eggwhites. 

  
  

  Ultrasound, scope and scraping. 

           Discharged.

  The duvet blanket.

           Empty stomach.
  

  
  

  Fragments of incomplete sentences. 

            Heartbroken.

  Tears heavy like the raindrops.

            Hard to write much.

  6 weeks and 3 days pregnant. 
  

  
  

  The word is miscarriage.

  
  

  I had one just the other day.

   

   

  • 11:45 pm
  • 4 Comments