And she'd go there nights
Into her daughter's room
With the bright
Moonlight
Pointing out
The little bed
Where a few
Months before
Her small girl
Lay dead
And even now
If she watched
In a still silence
And held her breath
She could see
The ghostly image
Of her daughter
Sleeping in death's
Cold arms
At rest.
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Comments: 20
10 4 u
I've read it or one like it by you recently.
Not a good thing for pregnant women to read,
or those who have lost a child.
…
Hut
What is the burn in the death of your soul burning to get out ?
you are a wonderful writter
Indeed, the nightmare that never ends. I found if I allowed myself to go through such nightmares, to the bottom of bottomless grief, the pain eventually became a constant companion that helped mend my heart.
Sometimes knowing the bottomlessness of such grief can transform into compassion, freeing heart and mind, asking of one then, to be of help to others in such pain. The pain then becomes a blessing, one of life's backwards gifts.
Terry, your writing always reminds me this.
Thank you