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.
That was beautiful and so sad..
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wow. all i can say.
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very beautiful. i’m so sorry for your loss…
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very moving to hear about your loss and love.
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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.
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