Between Bruises & Blooms

Micah was gone.

Wasn't that enough?

Wasn't one absence
already too large
for four tiny bodies
to understand?

They should have
had each other.

That is what
I keep coming back to.

Even if you
could not stay,

even if grief
had hollowed you
until motherhood
felt impossible,

why did they
have to lose
their siblings too?

Why did every
familiar thing
have to disappear
at once?

A father's scent.

A mother's warmth.

A brother
sleeping beside them.

A sister
tangled into
the same nest.

Gone.

Gone.

Gone.

Gone.

Grief already
takes enough
without adults
helping it.

And maybe
that is why
I cannot read
your choice
as noble.

Because those kits
were not symbols.

Not lessons.

Not pieces
of some future
medicine-cat code.

They were babies.

And babies
do not understand
destiny.

They understand

who comes back.

Who stays.

Who sleeps
beside them
when the dark comes.

They had already
lost enough.

You did not
have to make
them lose
each other too.