Haiti

Lying in a cradle unable to move.

Flies. Urine. Mango. 

Tattered cookie monster t-shirt.

I remember you. Don't think I've forgotten. 

Sometimes my helplessness numbs the part of my brain that holds you. 

Sometimes you come to me in daydreams only with a smile. I hold your hand and worldlessly push you on a tire swing I never saw.

Other times you invade my listlessness with your hungry belly and naked bottom.

I apologize as I push you from my day promising to return to you.

I can not help but keep the promise. 

Often my eyes are dry with thoughts of you. As though you stole all the tears long ago on the day that dusty yellow bus carried me away from your world. Other days

without warning I weep for you.

Did you think I would come back? How many mornings after did you run to the gate to look for me? How long did you wait before you went on? Did you grow to hate me? Despise me? Place me in with so many others who have abandon you. I never meant to be that my sweet Haitian baby.

I sang you lullabies at night and prayed they would carry through the ocean air to you. 

Part of me knows you are dead.

Part of me hopes it.