Letters to Little Man
Dear Unborn Brother,
Missing a presence.
Missing your essence.
Little brother I'm missing your life.
Daddy is comforting his hysterical wife.
So comes back the ultrasound.
Sadly you'll never hear a sound.
You'll never touch the ground.
You'll only be in it.
Mom cries until she's dry.
She thinks it's her fault the baby died.
Eyes open wide.
My hands are tied.
You were supposed to be here.
I'd see you grow through the years.
Little brothers can't just disappear.
I would be the one to teach you to wrestle.
Now momma pops blood vessels.
So stressed and hurt she fights with,
Demons and a kid who's lifeless.
So here I write this.
To the brother I won't have.
To the feelings you won't have.
But rest in me.
How do I love someone so much that I can't see.
And never will.
As dad grows ill.
I'll be there helping him swallow pills.
Mom will pass on and I'm here still.
Without a family.
What could have been you and me.
Will there be marriage?
You won't be there thanks to a miscarriage.
Sorry momma, sorry daddy, sorry brother.
I don't know if there will be another.
I'm an only child.
Plus, I'm a lonely child.
Momma holds me while.
I press to her stomach.
I love you little man.
I'll do the best a big brother can.
To make you proud.
I know you see me now.
God has you wow.
So remember little brother.
Everything we do is for eachother.
I'll look out for mother.
I'll do for you like I know you would do for me if you got the chance.
Then when I finish life's dance.
I'll finally have the chance.
To meet my little brother and thank the man.
For looking out for you like my prayers demand.
So until that day just know I love you man.
Love, big brother.