Thursday, April 6, 2017


Awake again
in the middle of the night
with the soft glow of the television screen
spattered on her face, and nothing more,
She remembers again
as the silent night chill
into her small apartment again,
her eyes weary and open
are but
another reminder
of her dreary life, nothing more,
she holds on to the cold staleness of memory
only for them to exist as
more regrets
to rewind
for another countless time,
she searches for the strength
to keep hoping.
she prays.

Her tired eyes finally find
that slice of sleep she's been waiting for
and a familiar image waits in the darkness,
once more her eyes open,
she can't sleep,
she can only cry again,
she looks over to her tiny bed again
and she remembers
the way she felt
when she held her
in her arms,
the look of her tiny face and her tiny sounds,
her tiny mouth and little hands, her little smile and tiny breaths,
She can't move on
when all her being
is bound
by what happened,
hoping and praying
every night,
She did all she could
with all she had,
she prayed everyday
as she watched
her baby die,
she prayed everyday.
-Armando Torres