Jon's thoughts in poetry (about our miscarriage)

27 Sept 2010

there is a fun'rel in my brain
and emptiness has left its stain.
there was knowledge of a heartbeat
and present feelings of defeat.
how delicate is life!
mistaken for pleasure!
whilst unbeknownst to most
its enduring measure:
conceive
be born
to grow
to sow
imbue
endure
and retire in amber glow
a life so young
or scarce begun.
there is one word that can encase
circumstance' indelible taste:
miscarriage.
a word not said, or heard, but felt
and brings renewal through death so dealt.
mourners...to and fro...tread
but the floor will not break
with dreams witheld
'till other lives
nor breathe air sweet
or feel faint light
requisite of
ev'ry man
exquisite the
eternal plan
a time to live
a time to mourn.