Shadow Children
the children
we bore in our wombs
but never our arms
the children with whom we never share
milestones, birthdays, photos
sweaty heads resting on a pillow
faces covered with chocolate ice cream
racing to beat a player to the ball
firsts of school, dances, kisses
walks down aisles of graduations, of weddings
no pictures, parties, ceremonies
no baptism, confirmation, communion
no baptism, confirmation, communion
they live with us, beside us
we watch their shadow lives unfold
alone
God knitted them in our womb
fearfully and wonderfully made
but the stain of sin
the corruption of creation
kept them from the life they could have had
they are our children
every bit as much as the ones
you place to your breast
send off to school
bandage knees and cool fevered brows
cheer wildly at games
console in your arms
send off into the world
they are our children
living in the shadows of our lives
where we cannot help but imagine
their lives
where we cannot help but store
their hopes and dreams
where we cannot help but mark
their milestones
their photos, their memories,
a scrapbook we can never share
the pages of which we flip through
alone
alone
5 comments:
This poem takes my breath away. It makes me gasp and check my pulse and take stock of my losses. You have written a small masterpiece here, Myrtle.
This is so good. I don't think it could be improved upon.
It makes me think of Stefan, too, Myrtle. No more birthdays, no more Christmas's, Easter's, no wedding, no outing with friends.
It seems a little easier now, three years after, but the thought is always there. The only thing is to trust it all into the Lord's hands. It is a real test of faith. "Help me Lord", as you always say.
I cannot imagine how a parent continues life without a child...without that child still being present in some fashion. And I wonder how you sustain that burden when you or you and your spouse are the only ones who have not "moved on." 'Tis one of the things I admire about you, Gitte.
This is beautiful. Thank you.
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