In the day, I tremble, anxious and broken.
In the night, I sleep with the image of your bleeding mouth spilling into my hands.
The distance has made me weary, weak, provoked me to an anger which I could not convey… My child, to the one who has wronged you.
And as I stand before your grave, hungry for your breathing flesh upon mine, I could not wallow in grief… cannot scream out my pain.
For my little one, I cannot give relief to the murderous retch that stole you from my arms.
Retch! I shall give you no peace!
I, cannot give myself peace….