April eighteen

Sitting in the front row

and my heart stops.

Stuart Little is in danger

Grave Danger

-and he doesn’t know! But we know!

The tiara on my 4-yr old niece

twinkles as she leans forward

eyes and mouth wide.

Every muscle taut

her wand hand grips her tutu

and her other stretches out

fingers splayed wide

to reach Stuart

to grab him, to save him, to safe him.

My heart stops at the naked yearning

shining from her.

Sitting on my sofa

and my heart stops.

The Portapique memorial

-a year? A full year?!

and the people

who loved

twenty-two people

offer twenty-two vases

of long-stem white roses.

As a Mom bows her head and clasps her hands

my heart is a yearning 4-year old in a tiara

reaching with all my might.