A Mothers Sorrow

Death of a child and sorrow of his mother.

A Mothers Sorrow

God Calls To His Child

It's Time...Come Home...

 

In the wake of death a mother is left

With pain and sorrow

She felt like there would be no tomorrow's

For death had left a hole in her heart

 And a emptiness that followed

 

God in His mercy looked down from above

Through the portals of time he seen the

Tears of a mother's love

 

His compassion and mercy fell like rain

Guiding her through the grief and pain

He sent his strength each day anew

Holding her hand and walking her through

 

This promise he gave

 With unending love

Your grief and sorrow I will replace

 With joy and peace in

 All your tomorrows

 

Reviews

[Laughing-Bear]

My Dear Writing Friend,
I sit here in a darkened room pondering this write; my thoughts float in all directions much like my pipes smoke. This word tapestry is not one that makes me feel all warm and fuzzy, no this one brings lots of memories with pain.
The strongest memory comes out of my posted poem titled,”1984”. I think of Kevin’s mother and the grief she felt with the death of her son, the son I had crushed to death when his car slid on the ice in front of my truck.
I remember sitting in the back of the massive church that held his funeral. I sat with my mother. I saw the grief in his mothers’ eyes when she came in and sat down. And I remember my mother squeezing my hand saying how thankful she was I was still here with her, what a contrast between their eyes.
We are supposed to die before or children, we are not supposed to feel this pain; at least that is how the fairytale goes. But life isn’t a fairytale, and things don’t always workout that way.
I left the funeral early; I could not stomach the lies the preacher spoke. Weeks later having dinner at Kevin’s parents home I still saw pain in his mothers eyes, but a calming of the grief. Your line “She felt like there would be no tomorrow's”, was what she had been struggling with. But yet her in her pain she felt impelled to reach out to me, to comfort me with the hell I was starting to battle. She had found a source of strength not from her own self, but from her daily connection to the Great Mystery. So you’re written words, “He sent his strength each day anew, Holding her hand and walking her through”, I was easily able to grasp.
I was surprised no one had posted any thoughts on this poem, I guess if it is an uncomfortable subject most will avoid pondering such topics. But I saw your write as both pain, and a hope. Thank you for posting it, and if this was your child lost I hope that the Great Mystery will bring you many years of comfort before you finally walk with strait eyes into the happy land and are able to hug that child once more.

Blessings, Laughing-Bear