Evelina

Evelina

I cannot begin
to understand 
the immeasurable pain 
of losing a child
or worse, 
losing two.
It is beyond my human limits
to understand
losing seven
seven
like dear Evelina.

First-born Etta was just four 
and watched as
they buried baby brother Willie
not quite a year old
his mother’s belly round with
sister Katie, who was born next
then died ten months later 
on William’s birthday.

George
  Bertha
    Rollin
      Walter 
fourth births in six years
house full of noise and life and
joy that cannot replace loss.
George
  Bertha
    Rollin
three lost in three weeks 
as death spread
its merciless fever.

Baby Daisy arrives in winter 
and departs before spring.
And Ruth, sweet Ruth
born of so much loss
survives summer
but leaves in fall.
One by one
and three at a time 
they fall
and fall
and fall 
and then.

And then.

Father John follows
drowned in the bottle of sorrows 
from which he drank
leaving Evelina alone in her grief 
with one grown daughter, married now, 
and one little boy 
spared 

out of nine.

How she managed to move on 
from such unspeakable loss
I will never understand. 
A new town
absent the stares 
and the whispers of ghosts 
and the seven tiny stones 
of her babies’ graves
she began again. 
Were it not for her strength
or her devastating ability 
to survive 
I would not be here today
to say their names
once more.

52 Ancestors Challenge by Amy Johnson Crow. Week 1 prompt: Fresh Start.