a letter to her...

ti zwazo

you smell like vanilla and you fit perfectly on my chest. that doesn't comfort at all though - you shouldn't - you are almost 2 years old for crying out loud. you lay here with a weight much heavier than your ten and a half pounds and suffer for the sins or the ignorance or the carelessness of others...whatever it is called...nothing has ever seemed so unfair.
your body seems to have given up already...except for the way it clings to mine. and the way you reach out to be held...with your hands, but with your eyes too. so i keep filling your belly, if you can call 10 cc of anything filling...every hour, on the hour...willing you, begging you to see beyond this moment and this pain. but some very angry part of me knows that i won't ever know you as a grown up girl. i won't meet that small but fierce young woman who takes herself a little too seriously but whose smile can stop the whole world from turning.
that woman you should have become...

in my move i found this letter i started to rosetaina not long after she came...i also found a page in my journal where she had scribbled during a clinic visit...you would have thought it was a picaso...