This wound That holds your heart Ransom with pain Resonates out to each of us Who care so deeply For your wellbeing. Promises of light Etch like scratches on A frozen window pane Indistinguishable, inconsolable Inconceivable. Yet we know and we wait For more moments Of filtering light That lingers hope for more than Mere morsels of hope. This pain so poignant In cries that hallow havoc In your heart We hold in silent compassion With open arms and hearts And words that can Only be a feeble, clumsy attempt In convincing you That you are deeply needed In this life, Captured in a vivid, raw, powerful Burning living spirit of your baby’s Warm, soothing, energy Her living, moving, ever present soul Beckoning you to rise each morning From your darkness And rest easy each night As she blesses you to sleep And begs you in your nocturnal Turmoil to find a reason to live on Immortalizing her spirit each day.
About the Poet:
Gloria Buckley has been a lawyer for 30 years and a writer since birth. Her work has appeared in Prometheus Dreaming, The Red Hyacinth Journal, Rue Scribe, Chaleur Magazine, Me First Magazine, The Defiant Scribe, Hermann Hesse Journal, English Language and Literature.