Alstroemeria

Please do not ask when I pass and you see them,

of what happy occasion they mark.

You don't want to know, it hurts too much to explain,

this attempt at lighting the dark.

Please do not smile when you see these Alstroemeria,

whose meaning in devotion does lie.

They are not from a lover, or a sign of celebration,

but instead this babylost Mother's sigh.

How could I convey so that you would understand,

my need to visit Peyton daily atop that green hill?

Or the longing I have to see her smile one more time,

making her grave that much more painfully still?

How could I explain that I need something living

to be where my dead child has gone?

Or that bringing these flowers is just another way of showing

that even without her, this mother's love goes on?

Could I make you feel what I felt when I broke,

watching her struggle for breath and then go?

Or what it feels like to have speaking into thin air,

be the only type of Motherhood I know?

Yes, please do not smile when you see me passing,

or ask from what happy celebration the flowers come.

You are better off not knowing that stories like this exist,

or how quickly one's life can come undone.

~Kristin Binder