25 Aug: Café of Imaginary Dreams

The Little Middle One

She’s the middle one,
the one everyone cries over,
the one nobody talks about.

Buried like a pumpkin seed.
Put a flat rock on top.

No name.
Just numbers.
A date.

An stillborn child does something
to woman, it’s a blade of wind
that cuts right through. Ain’t pretty.


three Russian Stacking Dolls

Written for an Image prompt: Café of Imaginary Dreams ©Misky 2022 Shared with #amwriting on Twitter.

7 responses to “25 Aug: Café of Imaginary Dreams”

  1. So sad. I don’t know how people cope with that grief – a grief that is kind of hidden from the world.

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    1. It’s not hidden. Everyone knows, but most people don’t know how to react or what to say. For the woman, it just adds another layer. I reckon we’re like onions.

      Liked by 1 person

      1. I guess by hidden (and I haven’t personally experienced it) I meant that nobody except the parents have had a chance to build any sort of relationship with this little person. So it feels like the grieving might be quite lonely. The expectation crushed is bad enough. But the grieving…

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        1. Yes, that’s true. And certainly the expectation of others is difficult to cope with.

          Liked by 1 person

      2. Another thing we have in common, Misky. One of my grandsons is named after the child I lost. Somehow, that comforts me. Most of the family has forgotten but I think of him often.

        Liked by 1 person

        1. We don’t forget them. They are every bit a part of us still. We do have a lot in common, don’t we.

          Liked by 1 person

          1. Yes, we sure seem to.

            Liked by 1 person

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