My Daughter

I struggled to hang on in  

       whatever way I could.

The viselike hold, the intense

       gripping of my heart,

May have been from that struggle,

       that yearning.

At times I thought it might be her

       holding onto me,

My empty/full chest, channeling her

       love for her son,

The ever present knowledge of having

      lost her.

I need no reminding.

The pain changes

From clenching, searing to

       radiating, almost warming.

Emptiness is being filled,

not full, but seeded by my growth.

       Empathy. Compassion. Sisterhood.

These things I’ve placed in the void.

Warm pain, not clutching, burning my flesh.

She is still there, ever present,

The background of all that I do,

      that I am.

My words to the doctor,

“It’s as if I’m pregnant again.”

She’s here.

The agonizing, sweet realization that

       she will always be with me

While never here.