Poetry: Death of a Child, A Mother's Lament

"The Reward of a thing well done is to have done it." - Ralph Waldo Emerson

A mother's child is precious, and a child no matter what the age. We are all someone's son or daughter. For mother's everywhere:

A mother's strengths, legendary to a fault
Keeps one going because we must
And yet, in the dusk of the dark night's pain
My heart bleeds of tears and my soul questions,
Should I have done it at all?

Were thou but a child again
That I could touch your brow
And kiss away the teardrops,
as the melted "dew."

And help thee walk but just once more
The road of life that you must go.

Could I trade thy pain
For the vessel of my heart
Gladly that I would my "dear,"
And snatch death from thy door.

Oh my love, my flesh and blood
Though thou be gone
The windows of time shall not erase
My every thought of you.

Life's wealth of mysteries cannot surpass,
The greatest gift of all -
No greater pearl or precious stone
Has God created that I know
Than my baby "Angel Love" so many years ago!


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CeCe Day Hill (cgh) Jane Doe Chronicles (c) 2005-2007 All Rights Reserved
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