Linda Gamble

left by their loss,
so many in such a short time,
they pock-marked my days,
bore into me, sucked my energy,
swallowed the sun, left me
alone in their reunion.

The babies saved me.
I swooped them into my arms,
mimicked their smiles, inhaled
their promise, lived off their light,
used it to tiptoe around the darkness.

Then one day,
there at my childhood home,
remaining family members gathered.
I trod carefully, schooled myself
to avoid the holes that surely filled this place.
My toddler defense in tow,
we played on the kitchen floor,
shared cheerios, banged pots, sang.

Shadows rose before the young ones’ glow,
danced round us, plugged the hollows with each step.