Twenty sets of footprints
scattered in the snow.
Twenty wings that flutter
as the breeze begins to blow.
Twenty peals of laughter,
Twenty toothless grins,
Twenty eyes that twinkle
as their journey begins.
Twenty desks left empty.
Million hearts that mourn.
Six will join to guide them,
unsung heroes born.
Twenty little angels
playing in the snow
dropping tiny snowflakes
on those who stayed below.
Elegy to Child Lost
Passion's love oft tempts despair
Casts a prideful cosmic dare--
Like Prizing Joy's most intimate caress
Babe snug beneath a mother's breast
Senses at this time are keen
There's no secret kept between
Loving mother, wriggling babe--
Wanted , dreamed of, much delayed
But entwined twin was also loved--
Some say Nature's method proves
That one twin may give all to mate---
But this fatal sacrifice must decimate.
Only mother's eyes would feel babe's smiles--
or sense those legs that wandered miles
And daring feet that danced in tunes while
Arms swam in gentle Celtic croons.
When babe vanished--not a sound.
Mother 's grief was not allowed.
Tempted so to trail behind
Escaping shattered troubled mind.
Squelching sorrow's hungry arms
She Tried erase babe's fluttering charms
Never spoke of-- never mourned.
By her husband she was warned
Was best forget a child so early lost--
Funerals, gravestones--such a cost--
But the years have called babe near,
Mother's journal writ in tears:
'Please forgive my selfish heart.
Repressed from all --this tragic part
I felt your sacrificial act--
You left your cherished twin intact'.
There is no law of random acts
Doctors examine data facts
It may be --that in the womb
When both spring flowers cannot bloom
One bold twin refrains to eat
Compels the other to complete
Hardy growth that life requires---
Sparks survival's crucial hours.
Not an accident 'tis sure--
Boldest spirits blossom pure.
Victoria Anderson-Throop ©
Tears of Joy
God cried today; His tears fertilized
Mother Earth’s womb;
The fragrance of nature saturated the air.
Tomorrow I will cry upon your grave
Falling from pregnant memories:
Washing away grief’s gloom
And the happiness of peace we shared.
As tears flow from my reddened eyes
I can see what I have purely missed
As I look up to the dark grey skies
I will always remember our first fist
I sit here and think of your face
The first time I saw your light fluffy cheeks
I always wanted to lay my head on that place
Even when I was buried in my girlfriend’s twin peaks.
You never knew my love for you
I waited until it was too late
I often yearned for a way through
Both your heart and your front gate.
But now you’ve passed away
Slipped through my limp and lifeless fingers
But I still yearn for that fortuitous day
And the smell of your tobacco colour coat still lingers.
As I stare at my homage dedicated to you
I can feel a heart shaped hole called ‘Noah’
My body is conflicted, I don’t know what to do
It’s such a shame that you were found in pieces underneath a lawnmower.
So many holes, and opportunities now
I feel my body grow harder
For you Noah would only allow
One hole to be ventured in farther
As you led there erotically
on the grass that day
with your legs so lovely
I couldn’t take my eyes away
So I didn’t see
The lawnmower draw near
The blades running free
And beginning to career
Ever closer to your toes
To impoverish your heart
I’m the only one who knows
How a love like this does start
To think I won’t see you again
Striding majestically down the Bath Road
And, protecting your shoulders from the rain
Your little tobacco coloured coat
I wish I had been able to say
All this to you when you were alive
I came so close once, that fateful day
When we were standing outside the Beehive
Your hair was golden in the glow
Of the solitary standing streetlamp
Yet still, you couldn’t ever know
My feeling for you or my heart would cramp
And now you’re dead you selfish thing
You’ll never hear me speak these thoughts
You’ll never feel me ‘flap my wings’
Or ogle me as I cavort
But now you’re in the ground
In the darkness and despair
But I have now created a mound
Where I can collect your hair
My heart is soaked in liquid salt
My clothes cling to my body
Although I know that it’s no-one fault
Staring at you was my favourite hobby
Now it’s time to say goodbye
My lovely little pet
My heart still yearns, my eyes still cry
Although we never met
Rondelet: Yang be evil
for the continuously raped and hidden
minors of India
Yang be evil
Yin acts with rash impunity
Yang be evil
No power controls the Devil
Wombs despoiled in mad enmity
Innocence: raped humanity
Yang be evil
(c) T. Wignesan - Paris, 2012
FATHER TO SON...
(APROPOS A QUADRIPLEGIC SON WHO LIVED AND DIED BEAUTIFULLY)
In the stillness of your own
you taught us
the circadian rhythms of life
and its meandering flow
cascading life's tempestuous realities
year to year gracefully
wrapping pain into neat little packages
to be opened in the still of night
where you lay motionless
while spiritual healing moved
from one solution to another
as your soul communed with God.
How cleverly He disguised you:
a bud in waiting.
When blooming synchronized itself
with your unfolding
you became a radiant sunshine of joy:
then you gracefully slipped away.
a gentle breeze blew baptismal bliss
over my every being
and i felt your sweet soul soaring
in the winds of time
and heard your redemption song
of peace and unity with Jah.
I MOURN WITH YOU PROFESSOR
Shadow and mirage are thesame;
The former is never a substance
And the latter never an oasis.
But the death of a child is both:
Hope is dashed and respite betrayed
Leaving only behind the pain of rising utility
That often comes from the nostalgia of reality...
I mourn with you Professor.
Eight times the earth went ‘round the sun -
Our world had only just begun
To know a parent’s joy;
To have and hold and kiss a face,
And feel a child’s sweet warm embrace
While under God’s employ.
The time we had was brief but bright
With toys and games and walks at night,
And pitches on the lawn;
What zest for life he showed so well,
Who ran in fields like a gazelle
Or like the nimblest fawn.
But then one day a storm arose,
And struck our child from head to toes
From fever and a chill;
In haste the doctors tested him,
Which proved his chance to live was slim
With no known cure or pill.
O precious child who lay in bed,
With wrinkled brow and fevered head,
A rose among wild flowers;
We came to him and held his hand,
And kissed his face where tears did land
On cheeks for many hours.
I still recall the words my son
Spoke last as I had just begun
To brighten up his room;
“Do not be sad. I’m here with God
With clothes so white and joy abroad,
Forever from this gloom.”
Right then his life was taken there,
Assuring us not to despair
Of where his soul was sent;
And now we wait upon the Lord -
While trusting Him in deed and word,
As our lives now are spent.
DEATH OF MY MOTHER
As I sat upon the ground that night,
Rain and tears streaming on my fright,
My mother was killed within my sight.
I turned to stone, she fell dead,
The mud around her turned to red,
Her hair flowed about her head –
I dreamed last night and I could see,
A shroud of death is covering me,
Born from the sadness of memory.
In the uncharted corner of my mind,
Is a child I cannot seem to find,
Lurking between shadows – hiding behind.
In the blessed relief of the coming dawn,
I know the child will then be gone,
Back to the forest like a fleeting fawn.
Then again, with the coming night,
Arise and stand within my sight,
And return the horror and the fright,
(LAMENTATIONS BEFORE DEATH BY A DEPRESSED SON)
YOUR DREAM FOR ME WAS SO DEEP
THAT IS WHY I WAS BORN FOR KEEP.
YOU WANTED ME TO BE A TRUE SON
AND WANTED ME TO SHINE LIKE YOUR SUN-
YOU WANTED ME TO FOLLOW YOUR VALUES;
YOU WANTED ME TO BE IN THE RULES,
AND BE A MASQUERADE OF YOUR OWN
SO THAT YOU BE PLEASED; A SON LONE.
YOU WANTED ME TO BE A CHRISTIAN
AND WANTED ME TO ENTER YOUR TRAIN
OF HOPE AND GOOD LIFE.YES GOOD LIFE.
OH FATHER!HOW I HAVE STRIVED!
I BELIEVE YOU GAVE BIRTH TO THE WORST
OF CHILDREN IN THE MENTAL FROST;
CHILD 'MONG THE WORST, AN ACCURSED.
I AM THAT CHILD WHO IS CURSED-
FORGIVE ME FATHER.I AM SORRY.SORRY .
CAN'T FULFILL YOUR DREAMS;I'M NOT HOLY-
I'M INSTEAD A CHEAT;THIEF,DISGRACE.
I AM A BAD AND BAD FACE-
I AM THAT USELESS SON YOU HAD.
I AM THE BAD CREATURE WITH CRUEL HEART.
FORGIVE FATHER.FORGIVE ME, FORGIVE-
I CANNOT STILL BE YOUR SON;HOW I GRIEVE.
YOU HAVE NO HOPE,DON't DREAM-
YOUR CHILD IS BAD AS ALL SEEMS.
FORGIVE ME FATHER,SWEET FATHER.
GOOD BYE (WEEPS), SORRY FATHER....
Each child is so precious,
A treasure more than gold –
Each child is here to cherish,
To guide, to love, to hold.
A simple gaze into their eyes,
And we see what we could have been -
And they look at us to find a glimpse
Of what life has in store for them.
Although we may never comprehend
Why God calls them home to Him,
For we would never, ever be ready
To let them go, we would rather go instead.
Since we cannot journey with them,
Their memories are our saving grace,
We will hold on to them forever,
As they become are our “Healing Place”.
So celebrate each and every moment,
With each and every precious child,
And capture them in your memory,
May their strength forever be your Guide.
Where are you
You do not come to me
When I call your name
How long shall I wait
I walk alone in the shadows
Where only the moon shines bright
Will you be my guide
I stood there
In this place
I wish to drink you in
I wish to feel your cheek
Upon my lips
My arms are vacant
Where you once lay
I hear them still
Comes to me at last
You are near
We dance and sing
You are mine forever
My heart is full of pain
It weeps child
Where are you
Death on Highway 12
For James Gilman, c. 1970
“Among your saints give rest, O Christ,
To the souls of your servants
In a place where there is no pain or sorrow or grief
But only life everlasting.
May his memory be eternal.”
Memorial Hymn of the Greek Orthodox Church
In the white bed
Between the lanes
Wrapped in a black overcoat
A boy lies dead.
In Christmas thoughts
Hurrying across the lanes
A hiss of air
A muffled noise
Some metal distorted
A last breath.
The lights on the Christmas tree
All memories to cling to dearly.
This story is told by the howling wind
And smudges on the snow
My heart is made of sorrow.
How did you leave me my dear mom
When I am not able to open my eyes in the wee hours
As a tender child or a bud not blown to blossoming tacts
You made a departure that suited your fame
Now I am alone and aloof waiting for your fresh smiles
When a mother tends her children to the school
Fondling sweetly their heads with affection
Tears roll down into deep wells and streaming rivers
Making my heart wait for an ocean of sympathy from you
When a mother kisses her child with joy and delight
While he/she returns home safely with smiling stakes
My lips some how go dry as if a drought of despair ruled the heart
Who can dare to wet them my dear mom when you are absent once for all from
No doubt father tried all ways always to shower concern and care
Yet his hands can’t replace your tender ones’ kindness
I dream about you and feel high to submit my progress charts
Both academically and administratively in all my acts and deeds
Look at her
So happy and alive
Not knowing the child should be 3 months
The one she couldn't have
The only tether to life
Another child of 3
can't die yet
Must live by rote
Aching to be her once again
The picture falls from my hand