TBT: Stillborn
A new day breaks,
the atmosphere filled with promises.
In the ever-changing dateroom of the firmament,
cold air and clouds meet and mingle.
Then the clouds roll away, large
and full, impregnated with new life
ready to be borne by the earth.
The clouds grow fit to bursting
and release their wrath
upon the world.
Whistling and screaming, the whole sky
feels the pain. Dead silence follows.
The clouds drift away, ushered
by the wind. All that is left
behind is a soft, pure snow, born still,
and a whisper filled
with a desperate sorrow.
Background:
I was concerned about posting this piece, and still am - the subject is a difficult one that affects many people and leaves so much sadness in its wake, sadness that, from what I hear, often goes unspoken and unacknowledged.
I cannot at all remember what prompted me to write this. All I can recall is this imagery coming to mind and moving my feelings enough that I felt compelled to scribble it down.
I do not understand the loss of children. It’s one of the concepts I struggle with most when I try to reconcile it with God’s character. I don’t know what He saw that we couldn’t. I also don’t know how much is a result of the world’s fallenness and the domino effects on our physical bodies.
When faced with the crueler parts of life, I am driven to clinging - clinging to hope, clinging to my belief in God’s goodness, clinging to so many assurances that God is near to the brokenhearted, that He cares for each individual sparrow and cares even more for us, that the kingdom of Heaven is for people who are like children.
Knowing what I know and believing what I believe about God, I can only imagine that no one, especially those who are right with God as a new-sprung soul would be, is alone when they die. I can only imagine that any child born still, born silent, was simultaneously being cradled by their mother’s body and by the arms of God as their brief time on earth ended.
To think anything else would, I believe, drive me crazy.
When I push past these steps in the thought process and lean into the hope, I start to feel awe over how many people that means we will get to meet on the other side of death, at the entry of eternity. What a glorious crowd, probably unnumbered except by God.
Personally, I will have several aunts and uncles, as well as a few nieces and nephews, to meet.
Lord, reunite us. Do not let our griefs and our hopes be in vain. Comfort us as only You can, You who have been separated from so many children Yourself. May Jesus’ power carry us onward.
Wishing you goodness without end,
Jess