The Child We Almost Knew

You came in quietly, softer than prayer,

Before the world could learn to speak your name;

We made a room inside our hearts with care,

Then woke to find the room was not the same.

~

No cradle waited, rocking in the night,

No tiny socks lay folded in the drawer;

Yet love had entered gently as the light,

And left its trace across the kitchen floor.

~

We counted days as though they might be kind,

And held our breath for news we hoped would stay;

Then grief came in and altered heart and mind,

And took the little future tucked away.

~

No lullaby rose softly in the night,

No small warm hand curled tightly round our own;

Yet you remain, a tender, hidden light,

A child we loved, though never fully known.

~

Some mornings grief is quiet as the rain,

It waits beside the tea at end of day;

Then finds us when the house is calm again,

And folds the light we thought would lead the way.

~

A date returns, a song, another’s cry,

And suddenly the ache is born anew;

We smile because the world is passing by,

Then turn away to make more room for you.

~

There are no footprints running through the hall,

No birthday flame for us to guard from air;

But love does not need years to live at all,

It grows where loss has taught the heart to care.

~

Perhaps no answer waits this side of pain,

No reason strong enough to make this right;

Yet still we gather what the days retain,

Your brief, small dawn, your softly borrowed light.

~

So rest, beloved, where our prayers have flown,

Past every fear we carried in the womb;

You were not nothing, little one, our own,

You were our love, held close beyond the room.