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A friend's niece was diagnosed with brain cancer and the prognosis is dire*. There is no greater loss than the loss of a loved one; especially a young child. I've written this poem as a tribute to her and hope that she will always be remembered in the hearts of her family and friends. We can pray for a miracle but sometimes the Universe has a plan that we can't possibly fathom. 
*She sadly passed away in 2020. 

The tiny grave
By Michelle Morris 
27/04/2020 

They sat in the room with silence all around;
The specialist waiting patiently for a response they couldn't find. 
How could cancer invade their child of five? 
She'd hardly lived before being told she would die. 

The treatment options seemed so brutal;
The prognosis poor despite the battle. 
What choice could they make
for her best chance? 
Delay her death because
without her they wouldn't last? 

Only a miracle would save her now;
Praying for her to be healed by heavenly powers;
But when she passed, they were distraught;
Never expecting to survive the awful hurt. 

Time doesn't heal all wounds;
They just become a part of you. 
People live despite their broken hearts;
And parents keep grieving too. 

Over time, the lesson may be revealed;
The evidence why our fates were sealed. 
And hopefully we'll understand that, 
The universe knows best and how to plan;
For every soul has a set of tests, 
And some mean it's time for a soul to rest. 

It may take even longer to get in tune
with our futures;
But hopefully in time we'll heal with grace;
And be able to visit the tiny grave and
no longer tearfully remember her face.

© Michelle Morris, 2020

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