I woke with scratches on my hands.
I wonder who came to me last night.
What angel, what demon,
what lover, what fiend?

Bleeding onto bedsheets
I see the nightmare all again.
Watching babies writhe and I plead 
"you're ok, you're ok".

Beautifully grotesque
and I will never rest.
In the arms of life, I wonder
if it gets better after this.

I will sleep tonight, 
too tired to stay awake
and these memories will come
like an angel, demon, lover, fiend.

Every fear has become apparent.
Every small flaw, now magnified.
...for my womb holds the memory
of the child I'll never know.

(c) 2000 by (++)Laura(++). All Rights Reserved