Upstairs

Sounds of joy waft towards me
Like a noose strangling my soul.

Childish laughter and prattle
That another might find droll.

Parents pleasantly entertaining,
Or languishing due to babies cries,
The sounds of a happy baby gurgling
And a toddler’s battle cry.

If I listen long enough
I can almost make believe
That the mothers weary footsteps
Are being tread by me.

On the verge of laughter and tears
At the beauty I do not possess
The pain comes poignantly as ever
As I remember my biggest test.

No childish laughter and tears
fill our home with their ringing cries
and though I can pretend for a minute
that what I hear upstairs is mine,
it hurts all the more when reality
wakes me up with its empty silence.

This poem was written by Chana Yehudis Zahav (c) 2009. More to come...