a formal feeling comes--
The nerves sit ceremonious like tombs;
The stiff Heart questions--was it He that bore?
And yesterday--or centuries before?

The feet, mechanical, go round
A wooden way
Of ground, or air, or ought,
Regardless grown,
A quartz contentment, like a stone.

This is the hour of lead
Remembered if outlived,
As freezing persons recollect the snow--
First chill, then stupor, then the letting go.

Emily Dickinson
Lilypie Angel and Memorial tickers

Tuesday, January 26, 2010

Journal entry tonight

January 26, 2010
I have no words today. I remember that feeling from last year this time - There are no words - There are not enough words. I began the day strong feeling ok and end it now feeling very weak and afraid. I remember you little one. I don't imagine I could ever forget that day you wriggled out of me cold and grey but still my baby - forever I love you, unknown - unrealized but never unloved.
A