EMPTY ARMS

For forty-plus years, we have wondered
what dastardly deed have we performed.
why this aching empty space is left unfilled
tell us in what way must we reform.

An empty room for the child that never came.
Boxes of toys unused, gathering mounds of dust
unspoken thoughts from which we can’t refrain
anguished, quiet sobbing deep into the dark night.

How do you answer the little ones who always ask,
Where is your little boy, can he come out to play?
Or the looks you get, those of pity or some of blame
What is the answer, what can we really say?

A knife cuts deep into your heart as you wonder why.
What have we done to have it turn out this way?
Perhaps better to never have a child, than have one die?
Oh! To hold a small babe in my arms and hear it cry.


---RJ

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I've buried emotions deeply for so long, habbitually it's my nature. I am so numb sometimes that even shame is lost. I would be afraid of myself if I had any sense left. I admire the bravery and honesty expressed in this poem. It's so bold and painfully true that it made me cry and even hurt physically. I thank you for sharing these difficult feelings.