Trauma hidden beneath. Pain stored. From dusk until dawn, I am hazed. Can I exist in this present? My past is where I live. Unlocking pent-up emotions, feelings and thoughts, from trauma and grief. Holes in my heart when a heart should beat in my womb. Entrapment of this body. Isolation from the world. Emptiness of mother’s womb. Walls enclosing, claustrophobia envelopes. Reaffirming that the experience happened; it was real, I am real, and we both existed together, at one time. Connected by cells. Carrying you with me, even now. Sharing you and our story with the world. Putting a face to a number. For you, I will honour. Commemorating with visuals and written words. This chapter closes but my finger holds the page. Stuck on, ‘What if?’ We are more than a statistic or a calculation. A person who has loved and lost. I am the one in four.
