Poetry

I have not shared many poems because i think poetry and what ones feels when reading poetry is a) very personal and b) subjective. But in this case i think that one thing holds true for all of us mothers, fathers, siblings, grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins and even friends touched by the loss of pregnancies, babies and infants:  we are outraged and hurt that such a awful thing should happen to us.

When a child, a baby, an infant, a being so young and untainted by this world's sins and pretense is taken from its family and friends there is a deep fissure that is created in each and every heart that hears about it. That fissure can only be filled with words of comfort, sorrow and sometimes outrage at the unjustness of it all.

in the early days of our loss these 2 poems encompassed my personal feelings of death and dying.  They brought both my anger and my sorrow into a place where i hoped others would understand. We used an adaptation of  W.H. Auden's Stop the clocks for Lucy's memorial service, which watson adapted just the final stanza. if you would like to see that here as well please let me know. The Emily Dickinson stanza speaks to the hope that my child was always going to be with me. If you know me i have spoken often about the duplicity of feeling in grief once again i share the dark and the light of my sorrow.  

as always i wish you all peace, light and love as you as you walk the painful path. ~ Christine

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can ever come to any good.

~W.H. Auden

And if I go, while you're still here

And if I go, while you're still here
know that I live on,
vibrating to a different measure
behind a thin veil you cannot see through.

You will not see me,
so you must have faith.

I wait for the time when
we can soar together again,
both aware of each other.

Until then, live your life to its fullest
and when you need me,
just whisper my name in your heart,

I will be there.
~Emily Dickinson