Miscarriage

poem I wrote about a young mother who lost her baby

"Miscarriage"--Mrs. Carriage, it sounds
like a pretty pram carriage ride--not
the cold, hard truth of "Your baby died."
So many questions I feel inside
my heart, my soul, oh, why?
My precious baby, why?
Before I trusted you were alive,
inside my womb you died.
Your little seed never bloomed
but just withered away--
bit by bloody bit--pieces
of my baby slowly slipping out of me
plip, plop, plip into the toilet sea.
Slowly, my baby is seeping
out of me--black, iridescent,
dead baby tissue in my hand.
I mourn for you, my sweet
angel baby. I wanted you
so much, my tiny, little one.



In my heart, I have kissed
your sweet, fuzzy head,
felt the velvet touch
of your magical hands.
You should have been
my precious miracle,
precious Angel one.
Now with each passing minute,
each day--you are less with me.
You are going farther away.
I commit you, my little angel
back into Jesus' hands,
your precious soul into Heaven
to wait for me. My darling
one--oh, how much your
MOMMY LOVES YOU--
My love for you lives on;
it grows wild and strong.
When I get to Heaven, I pray
Jesus brings you to me, so I
may kiss you, finally
hold you close to me and
wrap my soul around you,
my little darling.



Until then, each Thanksgiving--
I will Thank God for You.
Every springtime when
the dogwoods bloom,
like a giant your presence looms.
I've planted a beautiful, hardy,
red plum tree in your memory. And I sit there and
talk to you, tell you my hopes, dreams, my
fears, my successes, and my failures.
I love you forever and I know that
you are always with me.



I am so sorry I didn't get
to hold you inside me
nine blessed months, but
oh, what a reunion we
shall have someday, my baby,
my perfect angel