A Fevered Night, Unscheduled Departure II

I creep into your room, my steps are unsteady, You went to bed with symptoms of the flu, A soft child’s breath is what I seek, To touch, to comfort—to ensure peace. But as I peel back the covers, I find Your stillness is no longer sleep. I call your name, my voice trembling, Attempt to rouse you from your peace, But you are gone! A sudden wave of uncertainty breaks within me, Disbelief swells and surges like a storm. The room turns hollow, an unwelcome truth, Settling in its silenced air. My baby went to bed with just the flu, An unscheduled departure is cruelly swift. God knew, but I did not, That He would take you! Leave me unprepared, wracked with regret. What I did not say now pours forth in shouts, Words too late, too loud, As I lay beside your peaceful body, My last act: motherly comfort, Seeking solace where none can be found. Had I known this night would steal you, I would have held you close, Rocked you gently to eternal peace. I wish to see you breathe again, To tell you I love you, Through trembling lips and erupting cries. Your name I scream, your absence I mourn. An unscheduled departure only deprives, As a fevered night became a thief, stealing breaths that should have lasted a lifetime. In time, I may learn to bear this change, But not today—today is soaked in pain. A forever missing piece, a fractured frame, My soul reshaped, yet never the same, From a fevered night.