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802 · Jan 2019
The Preemie Out of the NICU
To move beyond my darkened confines,
and gaze at the world now by light defined.

Alive outside, on a day with the sky so blue,
white clouds, green leaves, shades of every hue.

Sweet air to breathe since my early birth,
of touch and scent - the things on earth.

The sound of children filling my ear,
of parents and loved ones soon drawing near.

To gaze in wonder at my own worldly visage,
now reflected, at last, in a smooth mirror's image.

But especially, I want to behold my mother,
whose meaning to me is like no other.  

The face that is God and the universe for me,
whose vision means love, and allows me to be.

To sense the warmth of that gentle caress,
that calms me down and soothes my distress.

And nourish beneath her soft velvet *****,
gaze up at those eyes, whose intent I must fathom.

It is nature's way that she decides my soul's fate,
that I die alone , or make heaven wait.
733 · Jan 2019
24 week preemie in the NICU
I lie here, as God intended to be,
for better or worse, shouldn't he judge me?

A chance of nature was how I was created,
but now that I'm here, should my life be debated?

The right of the living is my simple defense,
to play out my time regardless of consequence.

Perhaps a future of suffering, sorrow or pain,
or the joy and comfort where love remains.

But, whatever the reason of my earthly flight,
I come from the Father to claim that right.
129 · Mar 2019
The Doomed Preemie
Arms always held me from twilight ‘til dawn
But, when this night comes, soon I’ll be gone

So many nights we’d rock on that chair
‘til sleep would embrace me and answer her prayer.

Fortune will smile on some baby’s hearts.
Mine wasn’t strong enough, right from the start

Fate is the hunter that stalked after me
Like entangled vines that stifle a tree.

So many people said I’d never survive
And so many fought to keep me alive

With gentle words, I did hear my name
From voices so sweet they couldn’t be blamed

There’s a special bond from a mother to a child
That some would diminish, or have it defiled

In this short life I did feel growth’s pain,
But, mother’s love repeated like a sweet song’s refrain

And so I’m resigned to the reality of my fate
A life hardly lived that some still debate

My world was a room where struggle did reign
In silence, now dark, it weeps with the rain.

But, for every dream that dies, a new dream is born.

Remember my life,

Remember my name.

— The End —