The Tiny Grave

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