The Loss of a Child

by Myra King

I watched as the light fled

from your eyes 

No slowly dimming lamp,

you seemed in such a hurry to be gone

from all this turmoil

of grasping and clinging on.


For a fraction of a moment

I was pleased

that you'd escaped.

Until I realised my exile  

had just begun.


For even in your drugged

half-pain-free self

you had still been here.

Even with eyes closed,

the you

that hovered behind


was there.

As I knew.


Now no

crying shouts of unfairness

can awaken and bring you home.