Today I carried
the heaviest thing
a mother is ever
asked to carry—
Down the aisle
of the longest
path I’ve ever
been asked to walk—
From the back
to the front
of the church
where we sang songs of praise
together just days before,
you sitting snugly on my lap.
My steps like old
woman shuffles—
aged 100 years in a day—
unsteady and painstakingly
s l o w—
My tears trailed
like a leaky faucet
that will never
be fixed,
a freshly flooded
river of grief and love,
my wailing a new
book of psalms,
as I carried you
in the very over-priced box,
that forever holds
the remains of
your perfect
little-man body,
in your blue
and green footed
dinosaur pajamas.
I pressed my hand
firmly onto the
outside of the box,
lingering
lingering
lingering—
as if I pressed hard
enough I’d touch your
warm baby-soft skin again,
as if I waited long enough
you’d jump out alive
like a jack-in-the-box,
grab my lingering hand,
and shake me awake from
this wretched nightmare—
As if I hobbled slowly enough,
you’d clasp my open hand tightly
on the outside
of that morbid box that held you today,
where just yesterday
my arms held you softly with love—
Today I carried
the heaviest thing
a mother is ever
asked to carry—
Down the aisle
of the longest
path I’ve ever
been asked to walk—
From the back
to the front
of the church,
and with a primal sound
that defied all words,
I placed you,
along with my own
decomposing remains,
forever at the altar,
forever to be buried,
five feet underground.
I wish I could put my emotions into words as well as you. Your words, sadly, comfort me. We aren’t alone. We may feel it, but for a moment, reading your words, holding your book, I don’t feel so alone.. ((hugs)) Thank you for you being you and holding our hands and hearts.
This is the most BEAUTIFUL and HEART BREAKING thing I have ever read. I have lost to son’s at birth and THANK YOU for writing something so PERFECT. GOD BLESS YOU! Cara Blaylock