Cleaning out an old filing cabinet, I came upon a poem I had written 24 years ago, just after I had given birth to my first child, Benjamin. This spring, he will be married. His younger sister, Elizabeth, will be the maid of honor.
For a Friend Who Died of Marfan Syndrome
Let my baby be hers, too
Let him have grown in her virgin womb
suckled at her empty breast
Let me love him for her
who yearned to create
Let me rejoice in his beauty, the small exploring hands
the fervent mouth
the wetness of which
she will never feel
Let me tingle with the
joy, the freshness, the pain
of living with the same disease that killed her
Let me do this in her honor, in her memory
Her time is over
Own Your Health 