Miracle Still
In a room where they whispered “you may not survive,”
I carried a spark that was stubbornly alive,
They warned of the danger, the edge, the sharp dive,
But hope held my hand and said, “still, you will strive.”
Through fear and through nights where no light could arrive,
I spoke to my son, “we will both stay alive,”
Every beat of my heart was a desperate drive,
For the chance just to meet him, to see him, to thrive.
Then silence—two minutes no breath would arrive,
The longest of moments I’ve ever survived,
The world stood completely still, barely alive,
Till a cry broke the dark and he finally arrived.
They rushed him away just to help him survive,
Ten days under wires just to keep him alive,
Yet even through pain he would gently arrive,
With a smile so soft it made broken hearts thrive.
A miracle child with the kindest of eyes,
Who laughs without reason, who never denies,
With cars in his hands and joy in his cries,
A light that no shadow could ever disguise.
But time took a turn I could never revise,
They said I must leave, though I begged, though I tried,
Three hours a week just to stay by his side,
Counting each second before goodbye arrived.
A year and a half of those moments confined,
Each hug, every laugh, replayed in my mind,
Then they closed every door and left me behind,
Till eighteen long years redraw what’s been denied.
But hope is a thread that no distance unties,
It lives in the love that no system denies,
In every small memory time can’t disguise,
In the bond between hearts no absence defies.
So Leo, my son, as the long years go by,
Know you were the reason I chose to still try,
No matter the silence, the where or the why,
My love stays beside you—it never says goodbye.
Copyright © Tasha Neault | Year Posted 2026
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