Lament and Comfort

1

What do I do

with the grief?

What will fill

my empty arms

or ease the ache

of milk-gorged breasts

that will not know

his hungry mouth?

Small comfort,

that in his death

were others blessed.

I rage and rail,

blame, and drink the draught

of bitter guilt.

Words are wind.

Well meant, they bring

no comfort.

Sit silently with me.

Share tears and mourn.

2

Daughter,

I weep with you.

Come to Me

with your burden

and give Me your grief.

Let Me be your strength

and your rest.

This blessed babe,

who graced your life

for far too short a time,

is Mine!