No Grace

There is no news.

I watched this woman weather nine months of waiting with grace, and I marvel at how she did it.  We are at seven months and counting, with no end in sight.

No end.

No grace.

No idea how to obtain some.

How do you achieve something like a graceful state of being, when you're so filled with rage and helplessness that you visualize yourself engaging in a primal scream?

I put away clothes today.  Our daughter's clothes.  The one who isn't safely snuggled in her crib, resting next to her big sister, but is instead plateauing in growth in an institution thousands of miles away.  I just grabbed them by the handfuls and shoved them as fast and as deep as I could in the nearest bag.

I couldn't do his.  One was enough.

Maybe tomorrow.

Maybe.


And you're so tired you don't sleep at night
As your heart is trying to mend
You keep it quiet but you think you might
Disappear before the end

And it's strange how you cannot find
Any strength to even try
To find a voice to speak your mind
When you do, all you wanna do is cry

Well maybe you should cry

And I see you hiding your face in your hands
Talking 'bout far-away lands
You think no one understands
Listen to my hands