My First Shot at Spoken Word Poetry Goes to Hermione Jean

It has been exactly a year when I first tried writing a poem that I think could pass for spoken word–and I did it only because it was required.  My high school friend, who was getting addicted to Spoken Word Poetry, celebrated his birthday by requiring the attendees to write one poem to be read at the party.  If it weren’t for him, I either would not have started or finished it.  I have not been

into any other poetry writing after that as I had been busy with other things (curse you, Netflix!), but thought I could share this with you.

As a background, I wrote this poem to remember the baby I lost when I suffered from miscarriage in April of last year.  I had been super privy about this in the past, and only few of my closest friends knew.  Thinking about it now, though, if sharing means helping other people recover from that same traumatic experience, I mean, why not?

I may just tell you the whole story in the coming days of how we lost the baby we were going to name Hermione Jean (although not sure if we got the gender right). For now, here you go.






I live in a world of almosts—

Almost beat the deadline; almost made the train

Almost caught the house on fire; almost covered the stain

Almost got killed on a road I’m never ever taking again—

You know, I think I could talk for days and my list of almosts would never end.

But the thing I learned about almosts I fancy to tell you is that

The sense of incompleteness this word brings to a soul

That’s waiting for something to happen or not.

Like being trapped in an atmosphere of neither bitter nor sweet

And nothingness seems to be the better option than the other two

But if I were to tell you a thing that’s true

Nothing could ever compare to the happiness, bitterness, and nothingness I felt

When I almost had you.

The joy of knowing you are to own something

More precious than anything this world could offer—

Is immeasurable; unexplainable.

You growing inside me was just plain wonderful—

Although I couldn’t quite tell whether my joy was full

Because I could only almost touch you, only almost kiss you, only almost hear your feeble heart

It’s like the word “almost” was the only thing keeping us apart.

You see the thing,

the confusion on reality this six-letter word could bring?

I could only almost tell whether you were going to be fine

The only happy assurance I had at that time was to know you were mine

And then

You’re gone

and I was late

Before I could tell the world everything about you that made me so happy,

I was already full of hate

At point blank, the worlds’ worst almost hit me through the very center

Leaving nothing but a hollowed soul

Amazed at how quickly

It could break something that once was whole

For a great while, nothingness got the better of me

I was working the days, sleeping the nights

barely crawling my way back to life.

Or maybe even against it—I couldn’t event tell.

You know when you’re stuck in a horrible position

That you decided not to move even an inch

Because you’re afraid you might be in a worse position than you already are?

That was me for that great while.

Until I realized

Surely, making me miserable was not the part you’d want to play in this life

That is true.

After a while of not trying,

I regained my strength, and with slow, sure steps

began to move.

And did so without fear.

Life is a circle of good and bad almosts, I learned that to be true now

The key is to keep it together

And make everything work somehow

As to things eternal, I’m sure one thing’s true

How wonderful it would be when one day, at the end of all life’s labors,

I’d come home and find you.

8 Replies to “My First Shot at Spoken Word Poetry Goes to Hermione Jean”

  1. This is beautifully written and my heart goes out to you. I lost my first at 12 weeks and my second at 15 weeks. I have two beautiful children but I often wonder about my first baby.

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