My daughter quickened into this world-
I wanted to keep her in the womb, safe,
Like all mothers, keep her sound
In me and with me-
When I saw her first there was a rushed flood of absolute love
Then a sharp crash of panic that she would be taken from me
In some way, any way, a million ill thoughts
Resulting in insurmountable loss, taken by
Accident, taken on purpose, lost gone,
Me left torn-through, stoned, and eroded with grief that I was
Reassured would never happen-
“You have no reason to think…”

Still I was ready to let the world burn on
Any given notice, any given reason,
That meant she was away from me. 

Diagnosis: Postpartum Anxiety,
Medication, Stabilization, a chance to realize
I was just recognizing my fears as a mother,
Like all mothers,
Because our children are what we breathe.

“No reason to think” because I am white,
My husband is white, my child is white,
So much summed up in something too little,
“No reason to think” unlike “every reason to think,”
Unlike a knee to the neck, a walk down the street, 
Sleeping at home in the bed made for rest, and then
Gone- taken- murdered- any number of nightmares, 
My consuming fears an unjust reality for
Too many.

He called for his momma. He could not breathe.
We heard him, that resounding call for mom,
And now we cannot breathe, a collective of mothers
Ready to let it all turn back to dust and ash
Because without our babies there is no reason
To let the earth continue turning.