Aching by Brittany Searle Kempaiah

One Poem Only is a daily poetry podcast offering a quiet moment with a single poem—read aloud, without analysis or noise. AchingBrittany Searle KempaiahUnexpectedly.There are moments I relish my arms being my arms again.And then,I ache for you.I ache for the way you once fit in the crux of themyour head on my bare chest.I ache for those moments I dreaded your screaming.and the way it seemed to echo with accusations of my failure.I ache for the days I wondered what I had done with my life.and sat by your cot.Begging you to forgive me for wanting to be me again.I ache for your tiny brace I hated.The thin clothes and baggy pantsthat always seemed to draw eyes to us,accusing me of not being enough to heal you.I ache for your bald spot I tried to coverand the tiny milk peoples I feared were a sign of sensitive skin.The fear that your easily marked brown skin would scarand you would blame me for allowing your perfection to be blemished.I ache for your fumbling steps, your bruised head and scraped kneesthat made me fear you were somehow becoming too much like me.I ache for the bottles you wanted late at night.To hold you in the rocking chair and sing you back to sleep,without wishing it away.I ache.because I don’t really remember them.They are fragments and illustrated by ideas of memories.Feelings.Senses.Exhaustion.ButI wasn’t really there.This is what I took from myself.Missing all our worst daysmeant missing all our best.And I will never be able to hold the tiny you again,and love you perfectly,I ache,and I ache.and I ache.More from Brittany Searle Kempaiah ↓@brittanysearlekempaiahwords on InstagramShe is currently working on three books: Waking Up in Darkness, a memoir about being diagnosed bi-polar while pregnant, Crossstich, a collection of random daily poems; and Travels with Poems, an exploration into types of poetry from around the word through the eyes of parents to busy to travelSupport + Stay Connected to OPOIf you’d like to support the show, Substack and Patreon members receive a copy of my book, For My Daughter, along with episodes from the audiobook.Poetry slows us down. Thank you for listening.