Poetry - You're Gone


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#Angelbabies #Mothersday

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Today I made a little white Angel Baby Sack. Because there are all kinds of mothers. Good moms (like mine), bad moms, moms of moms, moms that have their arms full and moms that have emptyarms. This little white bedding is made in case a mom has to lay their little one to rest. Today I mourned the loss of so many more than my own little babies. I thought and prayed for the mother's who said good bye to their children before they were ready.  The little blue bed was for another little boy who was laid to rest this past week. We're never ready to lose our children. We're never ready to lose our moms either. I thought and prayed for those who lost their moms today too. But I don't know what that feels like. I do know what it feels like to bear a child, hold that child in your hands and then have to lay that child in the ground. And although I can't say or do anything to take away the incredible hurt that causes I can try provide something soft and beautiful to la...
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My dear child

I see your perfect little lips Your tiny fingers And ten tiny toes I'm amazed everytime I think of you I see your tiny nails and sweet little nose I wonder who you'd be Who would you look like Would you look like me? Maybe you'd have your daddy's smarts Or my creative side I want so much to know you, love My soul, it weeps inside Everytime I think of you I think of all we'll miss And I long to hold you one more time To give you one last kiss.           Melynda Hoeksema 
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The heat of a hundred suns The weight of a thousand worlds The sad, slow slide into darkness. There's no handholds in the wall No ledge to catch me as I fall.  My body grows numb as the light grows dim Fog fills my mind and all focus is lost But there's so much more.  I have no control Thoughts that aren't mine scream through my head And yet, not louder than the pain.  It pulls at every tendon Every muscle stretched beyond its limit Hard as rock It never stops And nothing ever fixes it.  I slip down farther My heart gets harder The pieces left are turning to ash. I thought when it got shattered It couldn't get any worse.  Every time another little heart stopped I thought surely mine will too.  Piece after piece, as history repeats  I go farther into the deep.  Melynda Hoeksema 
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