Every night we light a candle for you.
This is what we have of you:
a ceramic urn, your ashes,
a framed black and white of my belly a few days before you died,
your ink and watercolor butterfly,
a box of cards—sympathy cards, baby shower cards, receipts for donations made in your name,
the yellow blanket they wrapped you in,
a knit cap with a stain of blood (yours or mine?),
a CD of pictures after your birth,
a few ultrasound photos,
your stuffed lamb,
and this flame
we hesitate to blow out each night.
instead of good night to you,
because you burn still in my heart,
a constant light,
warm and small and bright.
© Burning Eye