While I Was Still

Short poem on the finality of death.

While I was still

 

I heard the cry of my newborn babe

Reaching softly towards my face

Stroking, caressing, finding solace

Skin to skin

 

While I was still

 

I saw the love in my husband’s eyes

Heard the soft and lonely sighs

Felt the hands hold our child

Heart to heart

 

While I was still

 

I watched tears on my mother’s face

Track down cheeks pale and frail

Beat a song on her chest with fists

Flesh to flesh

 

While I was still

 

I felt no need to breathe

Though quiet was my chest

Peace surrounded me

Soul to soul

 

While I was still

Reviews

[louisdthorpe]

Nice poem.

There is something special about stillness.

[Al Davis]

Thank you. I have always found that to be so. It is inherently powerful, stillness, silence.