Ten-year old grief

by nourayasmine   May 29, 2022


Two days before the moving day,
I found a videotape left among other things
in a box, abandoned in the attic.

Pressing play, I watch a young toddler
in a red, flowery dress,
singing with a pink microphone toy,
telling her daddy to also film her audience
of well-gowned teddy bears.

For three minutes, my PTSD stepped aside
and let me remember how that feels.

Before I had to leave
everything behind,
before I knew what death sounds like,
before men perfume meant danger
and songs became heavy memories.

On repeat, I listen to your giggle
again and again. Pause and repeat.
I listen to your voice in desperate obsession,
watching it delve into forgotten layers
in my heart.

For three minutes,
in ten years,
I wasn't grieving.

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