How It Feels To Lose A Son

I wrote this poem several weeks ago in my journal. I've feared losing my son since before he was born. This doubt and lack of faith in my God's providence but also goodness had become a hindrance to my ability to fully love and enjoy the gifts that I'd been given through my relationship with Judah. In admission of this realization, I sat in the feelings that I only imagined I could feel if something were to happen to my precious baby boy. I do not pretend to even remotely understand or empathize with the anguish of a mother who has actually lost her child. That is why I initially kept this poem private. Sadly, many of my close friends have recently lost children and by sharing these words, I hope only to instill the same assurance I found through the wanderings of my pen: that our God is good.

Quiet. Still. Empty hole.

No peace pervades this space

A breathless body goes to waste

My life and love you stole.

Your fingernails stopped growing

Your eyes forever closed

Deep, black shadows imposed

Sweet river of life ceased flowing

Aches more real than my own skin

Are all my body can feel

A black hole wound that cannot heal

My only truth is your end.

Pain breaks past molds

His death caused my tears

My tears sent you here

Our cup of wrath to hold.

Tear asunder all I knew

Enforce a new belief

Your chaos bears my sweet relief

In death your light shines through.

Forgive them, O Forgive

You cried, on my dead son's behalf

The shepherd prods us with his staff

So despite death we live.

Quiet. Still. Soulless child.

Your body here remains

Still fresh with jelly stains

My love for you, in Light of His, is nothing more than mild.