Little Losses

KING PHILIP
You are as fond of grief as of your child.
CONSTANCE
Grief fills the room up of my absent child,
Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me,
Puts on his pretty looks, repeats his words,
Remembers me of all his gracious parts,
Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form;
Then, have I reason to be fond of grief?

King John III.iv, William Shakespeare

I love the thought of ghosts and lingering souls
Faint revenants, dark shadows with intent
I don’t fear eerie noises or the cold
Air shiv’ring in our ancient slatted vents.
And as I want my living children to
Fulfil their true potential so I wish
For silent Iris to turn poltergeist
Possess my house and lightbulb filaments
Or leave me gothic portents where she can
Prevent calamity or incident.
Much more than only dust at least, more than
Ashes and tears for my lost innocent.
I still hold on despite advice and proof,
Can one let go of nothing? Empty air,
Would she drift off to haunt another womb
If I moved on and left her memory there?
I’m ever fondly constant in my grief,
It must go on, it must go on for her,
There is an odd betrayal in relief,
That loyal in my love I shall abjure.