Plunder to the Thief

Don't know why for the first time
I feel like I don't want to write
Can't write this one
But at the same time know I need to
Need to dig it up
Stare it in the eyes
Scream at it
Cry at it
Before I can fight this fight

Everyone around me
Eager to dispense advice
On how to be cheerful
Be positive
Have faith
Be strong
And it isn't so much that they're wrong
Than premature

Grief comes first
Is healthy
When you deny me that
You lay guilt upon grief
Confuse emotions with rationality
And tear the wound a little more
Drive me further into me

Let me dig it up
Stare it in the eyes
Scream at it
Cry at it
Before I fight this fight

She's nine years old
With my wavy brown hair
Loves horses
Love writing
Above all loves to read
And carries a thief inside

He stole our innocent joy
The fist time we glimpsed her
In wavy black and white
Stole our celebration
the day she arrived
left mourning and fear
In his footsteps
Then for awhile, let us be

Now and then, snuck in again
And took another piece
Snatched her innocence
With every poke and prod
of examiners in white

Stole her ability to calm herself
Her pleasure to enjoy what others eat
The way her ankles should support her
The way her wandering eyes should meet

He stole her voice
Her self-expression
Left a stuttering, stammering tongue
That never seems to find the words
Before her audience
Has lost patience

The bandit snatched her liver
Left it swollen and scarred
Threatening to bleed
Marred her kidneys
Filters of life
Pilfered more foods
More medicines
More innocence
Left her thirsty
And tired

He stole her perception of satiety
Left her obesity
Raided the metabolism
That should bring energy
Left her lethargy

Stole her coordination
Ransacked her balance
Left her bewildered and sad
At the ease with which her peers
Ride bicycles
Jump rope
Play tag

He left her on the couch
In her world of novels
Where she could travel with ease
Left her living in encyclopedias
Where she could always succeed
He left her with books
Her greatest consolation

She is nine years old
With my wavy brown hair
Loves horses
Loves writing
Above all loves to read
And carries a thief inside

Ravenous, never satisfied
They say he will return
Return to take her sight
Slowly at first
Around the edges
Relentless, determined to leave her
Blind

I want to scream at it
Need to cry at it
Need to cry before I fight
Before I can tell her
Blind

I don't want your advice
I've heard of braille
Don't want your cheer
I've read of Helen Keller
You don't need to guilt me into faith
I know He's beside me
I never lost that
Just let me cry before I tell her
Let me grieve before I fight

Hideous pirate
Never satisfied

She is six
With her Daddy's blue eyes
When she giggles
They twinkle
And I wonder if she even knows
How much the robber has denied

She was peaceful
As he stole her health
Peacefully he snatched her speech
I wonder what he'll leave her with
When he comes to take her eyes

They tell me that the robber
With his ever roving reach
May have marked my other children
Though it seems
More mercifully

She's nine years old
With my wavy brown hair
She's seven
And ready for debut
She's six and peaceful
With her Daddy's blue eyes
He's four: he wants speed
And the little one's two

All I love in this world
Plunder to the thief

If you know me
You will understand
I know thankfulness
I know peace
You know that I will fight again
But if you love me
Let me grieve

…

In the morning
When the icicles drip
Thankful for the warming sun
When I hear giggles at breakfast
For the jelly-smeared faces
And the endless supply
Of four-year-old puns

I will remember
That today they read stories
Build blanket forts
Imagine
Take by storm their therapies
Today they rob the robber
Tonight ride horses
If only in dreams

In the morning
When snowflakes quiver
To hold back the coming spring
I know that I will fight again
Just for tonight
I need to grieve