10 And I will pour out a spirit of compassion and supplication on the house of David and the inhabitants of Jerusalem, so that, when they look on the one* whom they have pierced, they shall mourn for him, as one mourns for an only child, and weep bitterly over him, as one weeps over a firstborn.
Babies are seldom silent. They snort in their sleep and as we all know they cry when hungry or uncomfortable. The death of a baby leaves a chasm of silence in a house. Mourning and bitterness are not reserved for the firstborn though I do not remember feeling bitter, numb but not bitter. In our sorrow God was with us, his compassion and the supplications of our friends.
Your face is white.
No toothless grin
To reflect a smile.
No little fingers
Gently folding,
Grasping mine tight.
The crib is empty.
Little blue clothes
Folded neatly
Diapers unopened.
There is no baby here.
Stretch marks and
flab,
Wrinkled stomach,
Abdominals lax.
A baby has been born
But there is no baby
here.
He cries.
No ‘tis the sheep’s
bleat
Reverberating around
the childless house.
There is no baby here.
My arms are empty.
My breasts are full.
Life goes on.
Yours did not.
There is no baby here.
But I see him sitting
on God’s knee
Smiling at his
Heavenly Father.
No grades to fear,
no adolescent temper.
Mother dear I am alive
and well
Living in eternity.
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