(This post linked to the One-Word Blog Carnival on Empty.)

2am
bright hospital lights behind
shadowed road before
hollow womb so recently tight with baby
infant car seat yawns
empty

white coats wrap rumpled scrubs
breathing machine’s beepBOOP
breast pump’s swoosh-swoosh pulls liquid hope into a bottle
dust settles onto home’s crib sitting
empty

cans of artificial vanilla-masked vitamins
pour engineered nutrition
past tongue and throat into the belly
syringe and tubing draining
empty

dawn on Sunday
her eyes slits
lungs empty
frantic breaths and chest compressions fail to fill
her body
empty
her soul
free

one day
one final trumpet
her grave
(and ours)
empty

“in you, God did something very big with someone very small. though you could not speak, you knew how to laugh. your wheelchair is so sadly empty, yet so gloriously empty. we will see you again soon.”