Here's mine. Looking back, I think this exercise really opens one up to the mosty heart breaking moments. I think for exercise three we'll try something a bit lighter.
Here is the divide.
On the one side, the pregnant wife,
the other, the grieving mother.
And in between, a father, a husband,
a man trapped in a vacuum as the surgeons
run past. And after the sudden, hydraulic drop
of the time being called, this woman emerges.
On a white barge, a sleeping Cleopatra. Look,
she wake, that bed is too big
for these three small shapes.
Daddy bear, Mummy bear
and the little thing they lost in the rush
between pregnancy and birth. In a bed
that quite clearly isn’t theirs. And don’t
they look uncomfortable for the photos:
no natural smiles, their heads are flicking
knowing that these are the only images
they’ll have, and really, they should look happy
for eternity, rather than in-the-moment-sad.
Like shuffling cards, those emotions. Then here,
at three o clock, am, as the fan glides round again
and halogen anoints her husband, wrapped
as he is on that camp bed, she lays on her side
staring at the puddle of lamp light
that illuminates her daughter, and wonders
how she can feel so lost, but yet so found.