My Stillborn Child, by Jose Coleman

Mhow, India,  January 1941

Oh my heart's darling why
could they not let you lie
under the open sky
outside the wall
where the clean rain could fall
and the sun shine?
Silent. No bird will sing
there where you lie
under the tall thin trees.
They with their pointed leaves
crowd out the light,
filter the monsoon rains,
deaden the air along lines of graves.

Do you rest still,
would-be companion of the sundrenched hours,
ghost child to play among the jasmine flowers
in my heart still.

by my mother, Jose Coleman 1916-2016

(Simon, the first of her nine children, only survived 3 days)

◄ Re-Winding Memories

Tempus Fugit ►

Comments

poemagraphic

Thu 20th Dec 2018 15:49

A time and place and a soul embraced

What a wonderful remembrance

Po

Profile image

Juan Pablo Lynch

Mon 30th Jan 2017 19:23

Melancholy with a hint of hope for the stillborn child to live on in an afterlife...If this is based on real life, my condolences to you and your family and thank you for sharing.
Juan

If you wish to post a comment you must login.

This site uses cookies. By continuing to browse, you are agreeing to our use of cookies.

Find out more Hide this message