Sara (I)

I lost my daughter
many years ago it seems,
but she would not nearly be one now.
She was conceived
by the light of a new year's eve
and by the whispers of
falling snow.
Her father; a raven,
a bear,
a deer;
he was like a crystal
placed inside my heart,
which fell away
when the light came too strong.
Her death was endless,
in seperate moments
she pulled away
and I heard her cries
for months after she had gone.
And I, I didn't know truly who I was then,
for I did not know truth
as well as I knew sadness . . .