I asked permission from my cousin, Victoria, today when we met to print this poem of hers. It may be helpful to the ones who have lost a child. Our Maker remembers all minute details of such ones.
THE NUMBER OF MY DAYS
From dreamâ€¦.to being
Held gently captive by my world I am a blueprint of your heritage
Indwelt with selected gifts, I am unique
My maker knows me, knows my path
Chosen for me before time began
The number of my days is kept secret with him
By his word I began to live in mystical liaison
Within the confines of your body
My life is cradled in your warmth
I am dependent
Demanding nurture, yet innocent of selfishness
I am fragile
I draw you to me in an unseen gesture, my goal is your embrace
I am untroubled and sereneâ€¦peacefulâ€¦assuredâ€¦goldenâ€¦.
But now I rest in his embrace
Our tryst has been annulled
My maker knew my path
The number of my days.
Copyright Victoria McGuire 2010
("I wrote this for a dear friend who was struggling to come to terms with the loss of her baby in the last trimester. I actually had no intention of writing anything, but this just came to me, within minutes, on the evening we all heard the sad news. Apart from punctuation and line length, it is unedited.")