Sisters and Angels

freewriting about my sisters tragic loss of her child last Friday.

Can I write?
The words that come to me?
Pages and pages of sorrow
and yet no way
to say what is really in my heart
Dear Sister to see your pain
and not be able to take it away
to see your lifeless child in your arms
the life you chose to give when the world cried no
the life you wouldn't end, the life you mourned
the life you are mourning
my words will never explain
the sick feeling that comes over me
when i see tears in your almond eyes
when I gaze upon the world of a perfect person
dying inside because of an imperfect situation.
Your child you held lifeless outside the womb
when every day the baby moved, and maneuvered.
I have no question that she was alive
because I felt her kick
and now I look at your empty arms, and i feel it
the pain that only a mother with empty arms can feel
that ache to hold the angel you birthed
I feel the sorrow of loss
I asked god to take your pain away
I asked god to give me the hurts
I aked god to comfort you
I asked god
and yet
God answered me
he answered me with strength
he answered me with conviction
he answered me with things I didn't ask for
All I asked was to take some of your suffering away.
To see you happy again
that death would leave your bedside
that heaven would except the child you love
that she would have a greater purpose
and you would be able to erase the still born memories
when I watched
believing I heard a newborn cry
and instead it was the sound of the suctioning
and it was bitter sweet
more bitter than sweet
as our massive family crowded into that small room
as we gazed upon a beautiful child
a child we had lost only moments prior
when you love something
when you have to tell it goodbye
before you can say hello
and there is nothing you can do
to say hello
except believe in an afterlife
believe god will send comfort
believe and Hope
which was her name
Hope
A beautiful name
for an angel
and yet I don't know what to say
or how
to say it
nor if this poem is really a poem
but instead
just an opportunity
to put a story on paper
will this story ever find paper?
I don't know.
I've learned how precious life is
I've felt convicted of every wasted day.
I appreciate my little ones more
and sister
it's not fair that I benefit from your loss
It's not fair that when your life hurts
mine is good
If we were seven and five I would give you
my favorite barbie
If we were seven and five I would
let you have the top bunk
If we were seven and five I would
give you my candy bar
but we aren't seven and five
and I can't give you my children
although I could let you borrow them
sometimes
but I'm sure you just want
to be able to hold
your own.
And that's in god's hands
so I'll just ask him to be there
cause i just can't fix this
even tho I want to
even tho I want to
I just can't.

Author's Note

this poem is not in anyway in it's final stages or even organized...I'm writing for inner resolve. If you choose to read, I accept suggestions to make it better, but just remember it's more of a release than an attempt to get noticed artistically.