My Baby, My Son Iella I've wanted to write Leia's point of view on Anakin's death for a while, but couldn't quite decide how to present it until this poem hit me on the head the other day. Losing a child is a parent's worse nightmare -- and really beyond that there's not more I can say, as ultimately words are so inadequate. For the moment this is the closest I can get. N.B. Apparently baby Anakin's eyes were brown at birth and changed to blue later. My baby, I remember you still warm, wonderful -- a moist bundle of limbs unfolding in perfect proportion, your brown eyes discovering the world for the first time your first journey completed your first conquest my heart. Accustomed to a humid equatorial shelter, sustenance on tap, you objected loudly to the harsh new climate, cold, clinical like the cut that severed your former lifeline. Our connection, once tangible, transcended the frail flesh -- became stronger, indestructible. My little boy, I wish I could remember your first lisping utterances, articulations in babyspeak of your loving origins, but they were shared with another no less caring, but not me your mother. Your name, your inheritance a double danger, and you so vulnerable. Bound to you and yet separated by necessity. Jedi mothers don't dream -- except in nightmares. My boy, I do remember your first halting steps, the ground an unreliable ally tricking and toppling you making you chuckle. You unafraid, at home in halls of power in the glistening corridors of hyperspace. My son, I remember the fond family joke you the puzzle adept and yet to us the puzzle, hearing rhythms unreachable to our ears. Problems were just equations, like the temple on Yavin, rebuilt thanks to you. I still have the model, its harmony and balance quintessentially yours. What siren songs moved you? What echoes from a lost past where strength of will and honour were still virtues and not tainted by that base thing politicians call expediency? So many times I almost lost you, greed, ambition honing the cruel blades that would cut you from me again and again. For you age was no magical shield and so you grew up before your time. I don't remember the moment. I looked away for an instant and there you were, a man to look up to, a young man I was proud to call my son. My young man, I remember your still form aglow in the Force, the flush of victory on your sleeping face. Dantooine, your initiation as protector of Jedi. I don't remember the surgical strike that severed your tie to this life, but I felt your body aflame -- a crucible tested by fire, sanctified by the Force your fierce desire to save us all, your perfect love redeeming me when all I felt was pain. My immortal, I remember your still form your sweet face peaceful in victory, the stars aglow showering your final journey with radiance reserved only for heroes. And yet the phantom cord endures stronger still. My link to you. My everlasting connection to you, my baby, my son -- my Anakin. Disclaimer: All content is made up, and no profit or lucre is expected, solicited, advocated or paid. This is all just for fun. Any comments, please e-mail the author or WOOKIEEhut directly. Flames will be ignored. Characters and situations are based on those which are the property of LucasFilms Ltd., Bantam Publishing, Random House, and their respective original owners and developers. The rest is this story's author's own fault. This story may not be posted anywhere without the author's knowledge, consent, and permission. This story is presented by Wookieehut.com.