Kronos Quartet

Here's my first experiment with the new grooveshark widget. Kronos Quartet's Kronos Caravan. The mood is akin to Sketches of Spain and Andrew Bird's Bowl of Fire. I hope you like it.

My Sweet Seraphim (It’s Time to Go)

Life has turned so quickly into death
and left its cobwebs dangling down.
All that's left of our baby
Is an empty space on the ultrasound.

My God, why do aches and pains
and hollow spaces in wombs exist?

Blood, like a desperate shop owner,
Continually reminds us of mortality,
Not-so-gently entreating its patrons,
"It's time to go. . .
5 minutes 'til close".

And that damn door
Is locked on the other side

All this striving,
Running into the wind
With deployed parachutes
Strapped to our backs.

We’ll probably never make it.
We're getting nowhere.

The dull soreness (much like a toothache)
Has become commonplace.

And forgetful minds
Retrace their steps
To the place where the living
And the dead all forget.

The place where the body
And soul linger on
In a dance just as smooth
As haze and sunlight at dawn.

We approach the edge
Then draw back our limbs.

And the earth stops spinning
For a moment, for a kiss.

So everyone must taste the lips of death
And live

When You Wake Up

I feel as if I'm slowly waking up from a horrible nightmare. The kind in which you can't move when something is chasing you. The kind in which you scream at the top of your lungs, yet no sound is heard. The kind that is real.

On September 5th I took a pregnancy test. It was positive. I rejoiced! My husband and I shared a secret moment of happiness and joy while our sister-in-law and niece and nephew played in our living room. We spent the day with my husband's family and passed secret "We're having a baby!" glances at one another throughout our time together. We were happy.

A couple of days later the spotting started. I immediately called my mother who told me to calm down. It was probably nothing. It would go away. It did go away. Worries gave way to more rejoicing. We told our daughter, "You are going to be a big sister!"

This is where dates and times begin to run together. I only remember the bleeding. The sinking feeling. Knowing that my baby left me. We had so many appointments that week. But I didn't need the radiologist to tell me. Or the midwife. Or the doctor. I knew. My baby was gone and all I felt was empty.

Today is the beginning of a long road of grief, anger, worry, sadness, joy and....who knows what else. I've felt numb for weeks. It's been difficult for me to even face the reality of this. But I need to start somewhere. Right now my emotions are too raw. Just the simple question, "How are you?" puts me in tears. The world is moving so quickly and all I want to do is sit still. People (with wonderful intentions) ask when we will be able to try again. All I want to say to them is "Please, don't rush me. I'm not ready".

Last week my husband and I sat on the couch, trying to grasp what happened. Asking the whys and not hearing the answers. Or being too afraid to hear the answers. We decided to name the baby. The name Seraphim popped into my head. As I pondered that thought my husband spoke, "Seraphim is a good Saint name".

Seraphim. It's perfect.