Poet’s statement: You may have “doctored” for a million years, and you may have learned to hide your pain at hurts you couldn’t heal, but nothing quite prepares you for the loss of a beloved child.
When you arrived
You brought sunshine and clouds;
Optimism and despair;
You brought life and death;
Made me theist and disbeliever.
When they brought you out
I was still groggy.
Photography by Umberto Salvagnin
I opened one eye,
Looking for your father.
Calling for him, I asked after you.
I didn’t see the tears through my one open eye.
We named you before you were born.
Thank Goodness for such presumption;
We had such little time.
Until you came we didn’t know,
We had next to no time …
By the time I woke again
They had taken you for surgery.
I saw your father talking to the doc,
Whispering so I wouldn’t hear.
Something’s wrong …
I watched your father weep later as he told me,
and held me as I held him.
My princess, I wonder …
Was it something I did?
Something I didn’t do?
Was it me at all?
Or was it as your father said,
Nature is not always perfect …
Nature makes the four-leaf clover
As surely as she does the one with three leaves.
You were my four-leafed clover!
But you were perfect!
Even if Nature wasn’t …
DR. UPREET DHALIWAL, MS, is a full-time ophthalmologist at University College of Medical Sciences, Delhi, as well as a medical educator, parent, and part-time fiction writer. Her blog is at www.sulekha.com.
Highlighted in Frontispiece Spring 2011 – Volume 3, Issue 2