holding that rope

lamb and rope cropped

we don’t come out of the womb laughing or
angry we come out crying

for nine months we soak in warm baths they take
us out hold us up covered in gook

nurses like angels descend cleaning
checking every orifice – we’re here on

loan from God – He comes to take my son back
he stands there with Jesus His hand on his

shoulder to guide him into the woods the
angel says he won’t go until you

say so and I say no I’m not ready
I have two sons right here the angel says no

you have one son on earth and one with God
I tie the rope from my house to the cross

and hold on

the girl my son loves calls me with one hand
other one holds my son covered in blood

I speak with detectives and mortician
they ask me his birth date the same info

I filled out at hospital 22
years ago now his death certificate
and I keep holding that rope God

lent him for 22 years and I must
give him back – my soul is sick – I miss my

baby boy.

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6 comments

  1. tim · September 1, 2009

    That was beautiful and so sad..

    Like

  2. pskillings · September 2, 2009

    wow. all i can say.

    Like

  3. leaningintogrief · September 2, 2009

    very beautiful. i’m so sorry for your loss…

    Like

  4. dee2dee · September 3, 2009

    very moving to hear about your loss and love.

    Like

  5. typhoidterri · September 5, 2009

    Thank you all for your wonderful comments. This poem was inspired by my pastor’s sermons about his son who was fatally stabbed to death the day after Christmas last year. It was written from his point of view.

    Like

  6. Pingback: cupcakes and carrier pigeons « row away from the rocks

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