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Poems of df

df is one of the site regulars who is a very talented poet. This page is a special collection of her poems. Her poems' subjects include feelings about the loss of her child, Jeffrey, as well as other post-abortion loss issues like depression and grief.


Poems

  • 2000
    My Invisible Child....

    Invisible child, you came to me.
    Invisible child, no one could see
    how important you were, but...
    oh, the feelings you've stirred..

    You were never to hold, never to have,
    never to see.
    INVISIBLE.
    To all, but me.

    You came to me so long ago,
    and made a mark--I couldnt let go.
    You've lingered in my heart, my son,
    for years...
    and blinded I've been by all the tears.

    Weighed down with pain, crushed with guilt,
    My wings were clipped and to Hell I've slipped.
    Darkness prevailed and clouded my eyes,
    My heart so scarred, I wished to die.

    A sickness crept in and housed my soul,
    and created a blackness--an empty hole.
    Imprisoned on the ground, I looked up to the sky,
    And secretly I wondered if I could take up wings to fly.

    But flight is not the answer,
    Wings are not the way.
    So I've picked myself up off the ground
    to find a better way.

    The cloud is slowly lifting and my eyes
    again can see.
    There is so much beauty in this life,
    and I know you're here with me.

    I now can see the gifts you've brought,
    and, oh, Lord, what lessons you've taught!

    My invisible child--never to see.
    My invisible child--never meant to be.
    My invisible child--you're visible to me.
    My visible child---my son, Jeffrey.

  • "No greater gift"
    Close your eyes and think of heaven--
    let your minds float free.
    Close your eyes and think of heaven--
    imagine what you'll see!

    I know that darkness cloaks your light
    and it is hard for you to see,
    so if you will allow me,
    I'll tell you what I see:

    I see a place of light and love
    where darkness has no place.
    I see a place where children run
    and angels hands they do embrace...

    Spirits roam and spirits soar
    and happiness abounds
    If you searched a lifetime--
    a better place would not be found.

    Your angels will take flight tonight--
    their spirits will fly free--
    Unnending joy awaits them,
    What greater gift could there be?

  • July 20 2001
    The Artist

    The Artist who imagined me,
    drew the lines all wrong.....
    The straight lines curved, the curved lines straight,
    The pencil had slipped, the paper ripped, and the
    Character amiss.....
    amongst the Chaos of it all.

    The face is mangled, the body bloated,
    the brain drawn backwards, the heart all broken,
    The image distorted by the Artist who aborted the
    sketch that was mistakenly etched on the
    wrong fabric and He has created much havoc.

    The Sketch discarded and tossed aside, the Artist has
    left, but the Character He's etched is crumpled and broken
    with straight lines curved, and curved lines straight,
    mangled and bloated, ripped, and flipped.
    The chaos persists because the Artist has missed
    to grasp the fact that the Character created cannot
    be dismissed because she still exists--on the
    wrong fabric, tattered and torn, the lines all wrong.

    The Character is crumpled and distorted so badly
    and the Artist is needed to erase the mess that
    He had started but discarded because the lines
    were so horribly wrong.

  • July 25,2001
    Devil's whisper

    I often wonder if I am the only
    one alive who hears the whispers
    that permeate the air and settle
    in my head to turn the light to
    darkness.

    The chiding, ripping banter that
    consumes, then overtakes the
    stillness--creating ripples and
    then quakes--that shake my
    sensibilities.

    And, I cannot comprehend how
    when the whispers magnify to
    become the devil's screech
    incarnated, why I am the only
    one who hears it.

    Please, please...tell me that you can
    hear it too....
    but....
    oh.....
    I can see in your eyes that
    you do not understand....
    that you do not hear the screeches
    that prompt me to rip apart my flesh
    and to inhale that which is sweet, yet unnatural...

    .....and, I am left to wonder why that
    worm of evil has chosen to inhabit
    me.

  • July 1, 2001
    untitled

    Hot, glistening sun
    rises from nowhere
    and sneaks to its peak.

    Dynamic, yellow--giver of light
    stands at attention
    and parches the ground.

    Majestic light-rays
    reflect off the pavement
    and I am scorched from above--below.

    No water in sight
    my tongue grows heavy,
    my lips crack and bleed.

    Giver of light,
    Life-giver, why
    do you hurt me so?

    Hot, glistening sun
    falls from the sky
    to leave me in darkness.

    Strength stolen--
    absorbed into heat--
    I'm unable to move.

    Cool darkness
    brings some relief
    but is taunting in nature.

    Stars twinkle,
    but I hear their laughter
    in the jackal's cry.

    Mocking and teasing,
    the owl begs to
    know, "Who"?

    "Who, Who"
    "Who do you think you are"?
    he screaches.

    Burnt skin shivers
    and shakes in
    the cool night.

    The owl's question
    hovers unanswered
    in the cool breeze.

    The hot, glistening sun
    rises from nowhere
    to burn again.

  • 1/01
    "no escape"

    Is it possible, plausible, permissable to escape?
    To lift the cloaks, the layers, the barriers that cover thy soul in darkness...
    I am neck-deep in sand, dirt, rubble, and rocks and
    know not if I have the strength to squirm, to struggle, to wrestle
    against these impenetrable barriers.

    My hunger for life diminished....
    Malnourished, I cannot find the strength to fight,
    to yearn, to desire.
    I cannot escape nor emerge from the barriers
    which anchor me, root me, immobilize me.
    Defenseless, I stand.
    Unable to move.

    The New Year rings in with the promise, the hope , the bait
    of better things.
    That bait, that hope, that promise--meaningless however.
    It dangles out of reach for I cannot move.
    I am anchored, rooted, immobilized by the demons of the past.
    Too many layers cover my soul.
    The darkness prevails.
    I cannot see.

    Is it possible, plausible, permissable to escape?
    I fear not........

  • A letter to Miguelito--Maria E's son.

    Miguelito,
    I am sitting here thinking of you. Your due date is just about here and had circumstances been different, you would have been entering our world. Screaming, wailing, arms flailing, tears pouring--your entrance would have been grand. Loud, noisy, beautiful birth. That will not happen though. Screaming, wailing, arms flailing, tears pouring--your entrance was not grand. Loud, noisy, heartbreaking death. And why? ......

    I wanted to compose something special for you Miguelito. I wanted to come up with words to signify the importance of your life. Exhaustion, however, has overtaken every fibre of my being and has robbed me of my thoughts. My pen is silent for long stretches. My pen waits for the words to flow, but my mind is barren tonight. And try as i may, i cannot organize my thoughts. ....

    Spring is upon us. Amazing me like it usually does. All of a sudden the trees don their coats of green. Dry, cracked soil explodes with color as flowers emerge from their hiding places. Birds mysteriously reappear out of nowhere to sing their magnigicent songs. (It's odd-- spring is not my favorite season. This season of new beginnings reminds me of false hope).........

    Here I go again, Miguelito. Rambling. Mind racing in a thousand different directions. Trying to make sense out of the senseless. Trying to share wisdom when i have none....

    It is raining tonight. I love the rain, Miguelito. Stick me in a forest on a rainy night and that is my idea of heaven. Heaven because next to the rain, there is no other natural element that I love more than trees. There is just something about them that I cant explain, but I feel that every tree has a story to tell...and, tonight on my drive home, I couldnt keep my eyes from wandering to the side of the road to stare at the beautiful, magnificent trees. The trees just call me. The trees speak to me. And the thing that blows my mind is the diversity amongst them. The willows with their lovely, weeping waves of green swaying and touching the evergreens which stand tall and protective amongst the oaks and the elms which are still naked. But, then there are the stragglers. The trees that are diseased, infected, dying. And they stand there so lonely and so frail and it just doesnt make sense. Why are some given the oportunity to grow strong, healthy and old while others struggle and are overtaken by the elements? What is the point? What is the point, I ask? Why does it rain, why does the sun shine? Why do the trees grow? Why do the trees die? Why?

    And I dont know why Miguelito. But I do know that every raindrop replenishes the earth. Every dying tree is reabsorbed back into the soil. And, new life emerges from this rain--from this compost.

    When you died, Miguelito, there was a rainstorm of tears. The storm has subsided some, but the rain will never end. Your life, your soul, however, much like those dying trees has been reabsorbed back into mother earth. Reabsorbed and replenished by the rain, you bring new life. You bring new life, Miguelito, because you have touched and changed many by your brief presence. This world will never be the same because of the changes that you have fostered by living and dying.....

    I'm sorry, Miguelito, for rambling and i hope I have made some sense. I am sorry, too , that I never got to meet you, but I thank you for being who you are. I thank you for touching my life.

    Love, df

  • April 2001
    "Just a stem"

    I was driving aimlessly--my mind was not my own,
    The demons in my soul had taken full control.
    Speeding down the highway, I played a silly game,
    I'd close my eyes and count to three and
    pray for no more pain.

    The games, I play, they are not fun, but they're beyond
    my mind's control,
    You see, for many reasons (and I cant explain) my
    mind is not my own.

    Freedom gone, my soul so trapped, I wonder how it is,
    To feel the wind beneath my wings and
    to touch the hand that's HIS.

    I pull my car off the road and walk into the woods,
    I lay my weary body down and wonder if I could.....

    I pray to Him and ask that He could let my soul go free,
    For I know the body it inhabits , isnt really ME.
    It's kind of hard to live like this,
    not knowing who I am.
    I want to be a flower, but feel more like the stem.

    You see, the flower has the beauty,
    and knows not how it hurts,
    To be the stem that bears the weight
    and is anchored in the dirt.

    Someday, I pray-- He will hear me and
    will transform my soul to be,
    The flower that I yearn to be
    and then i shall be free.

  • April 2001
    "A Sparrow"

    I came perchance upon a sparrow-- he was hiding 'neath a tree,
    I thought it kind of funny that he wasn't flying free.
    I moved my body closer to see why he was there,
    but his body trembled fiercely, his eyes depicted fear.

    He tried to run, but couldn't move--his wing, I saw was broken
    His spirit , too, damaged badly--though no words between us spoken.
    "Little bird", I said to him, " please dont be so scared",
    "come to me, I'll help you out, let me ease your fear".

    The little bird, he tried to move, away from me again,
    but his wing was badly broken--with a wound that might not mend.
    "Little bird", I said again, " I promise not to hurt you",
    "let me sit beside you-- my words I swear are true".
    "Tell me please," I said to him, " how this came to be"
    "The pain, I see , runs very deep--wont you share with me"?

    Minutes into hours turned, but not a peep I heard,
    I did not know what to do --to help this little bird.
    I sat and sat beside him, to try to earn his trust,
    his pain so clear--in and out--it really seemed unjust.

    I fell asleep at some point, but I wish i hadnt slept,
    for when my eyes reopened, I saw the bird had left.
    His tiny, broken body lied still upon the ground,
    but his spirit had escaped , and , it was heaven-bound.

    I picked his little body up and held him close to me,
    I could not understand-- why death was meant to be....
    He should have had a life to live, this little bird, now gone,
    Why couldn't he live? Why couldnt he stay-- to see another dawn?

    I sat and wept for this bird and for the chance denied,
    You see, I should have got to know him,
    I should have seen him fly.....

  • Fri, 19 May 2000
    These two worlds....

    These two worlds i live in, they're very far apart.
    They're night and day, light and dark,
    they're driving me insane.

    I'm up a minute, down the next,
    so little piece of mind,
    Like a bird with broken wings, who
    no longer flies.

  • "Darkness" 2000

    Darkness rolls around me,
    Its heaviness sincere,
    I'm groping for the light,
    but, its seemingly not here.

    My fingers are extended,
    and they're reaching towards the light,
    but they never seem to grasp it,
    and Darkness wins this fight.

  • untitled 2000

    Heaven and hell--true worlds you wonder?
    and I tell you Yes they both exist.
    I know.....
    because I travel to both worlds daily

    . On a Lear Jet.....
    Faster than the speed of light,
    I transport from one world to another.

    It is a dizzying and tumultous journey and
    it is a road I would rather not travel.
    I' m tired of heaven. I'm tired of hell.
    I'm tired of that flight.

    Someday--and soon, I hope--I will abort
    takeoff and will refuse the journey.......

    It is not so easy to abort, however,
    yet I must and I will.
    I've done it before.

  • Sept 24 2000

    untitled

    My preoccupation with the past never seems to end.
    I am inexplicably drawn to those thoughts and memories
    which will not disappear.
    There is a dangerous undertow that sucks me in and rocks my world.

    Why?

    Sweet release. Just let it go.
    Stay away from the undertow.
    Retreat to the edge of the beach where the tide
    gently ebbs and flows.
    .....where the water sneaks up onto the sand, but never
    quite reaches your foot.

    My foot--however--is the only part of me exposed.
    My knees are drawn up. My arms wrapped tightly around my legs.
    My weary head rests upon my knees.

    Solitude.
    Peace .
    Tranquility.

    It is inevitable, however, that my peace will be sucked up into that
    undertow
    which threatens to grab me in and pull me down forever.

    I am not stupid.
    Logically I know that i can pick myself up and walk away from the waters edge.
    I can retreat far enough back to a place where the water will never reach me.....
    Far from that unpredictable undertow.

    But, logic is eaten up by rage, fear, a secret desire to walk not away,
    but towards the tumultous waters.

    Why?

  • 2000
    untitled

    I have these burning fires that
    live within my soul,
    They laugh at me, they lash at me,
    I've got no place to go.

    Winds of change, I ask of you, to blow
    away these flames,
    if only for a day or two, please
    take away my pain.

  • July 2000
    "The Choice"

    Choose--they told me--life or death.
    Hurry, they told me, he's getting too big.
    I blinked my eyes and you were gone.

    And they were gone, there job was done.
    But nobody warned me how hard it would be.
    Nobody told me the guilt I would feel.
    Didn't they realize that you were my son?
    Did they think that you were merely a clump of
    unorganized cells?

    Did they think that you were not real?
    They made me feel like you were an alien.
    But, you were real--to me--and you still are.
    And, I suffer because I cant live with the fact that i chose death.
    Your death.

    Who did I think I was? Who did they think I was?
    How could they have exposed me to such a choice?
    What gave me or them the right?

    I am so sorry, my son.
    And now I hear how valiant I was and how strong I was.
    I accepted your pain, to spare it from you.
    But, you and I know the truth.
    That was NOT the reason I made my choice.
    I made it for ME. I made it because i was SELFISH.
    I made it because I wasnt strong and I wasnt valiant.

    I was weak and thought that i would go insane if I had to feel
    your alien body kick inside of me for another day.
    That is the truth that nobody knows....and now I am exposed.

    Sorry is not a big enough word to convey how bad i feel.
    They've left me so confused Jeffrey.
    They've imprisoned me with bars of steel which suffocate my heart,
    my soul, my life.

    The power they gave me that one day--has weakened me forever.
    The flames from hell burn deep within my soul and I am scared.
    I am scared that those flames will consume me and will take me to a place
    far from where you are......
    rightfully so, though, for you are innocent and pure and undeserving of my company.

  • 2000
    Sean Michael (Jeffrey).......

    If you can, I'm asking you,
    to reach across the sky.
    Your mom's in need to feel your touch,
    for I can hear her cry.
    Remind her, please, if you can,
    that you're in a better place,
    You're running free and happy , too,
    within the Lord's embrace.

    But, take a minute, if you can,
    to send your mom a sign,
    A gentle touch is all she needs
    to let her know you're fine.
    Touch her heart, and wipe her tears, and
    reach inside her heart,
    To let her know, that though you're gone,
    You'll never be apart......

  • June 27, 2000
    Jeffrey's 4th Birthday

    In my mind, I roam the aisles
    of the local party store.
    I pick up candles and balloons and
    a sign for my front door.
    The sign says, "Happy Birthday" and
    the candles are for his cake--
    I wish i could dream this dream forever,
    and never have to wake.

    You see, today is Jeffrey's Birthday,
    He's four years old today,
    but I wont get the chance to celebrate
    or ever watch him play.
    Four years ago, I made the choice
    to send him to the Lord,
    To release his sickly body,
    to let his spirit soar.

    I know I gave my son to God,
    but I need him back today,
    I need to spend some time with him,
    and for that favor--I will pray.
    Jeffrey's time was short with me,
    and I never got the time,
    To hold him close or to hug him dear
    or to know that he'd be fine.

    I have some gifts I'd like to give
    to my special child.
    Would you let me, please my Lord,
    hold him for awhile?
    The gifts are very simple,
    and for my son they are,
    A heartfelt hug and a soft embrace,
    which can be treasured from afar

    . Jeffrey, I'm trying to imagine
    that you're here with me today.
    The Lord has listened to my prayers
    and has sent you back to play.
    In my mind, I see you,
    and you're sitting on my lap.
    I cant believe how big you are
    and what a handsome chap!

    Look at me, please my son,
    gaze into my eyes ,
    and remember always,
    that I'll never say goodbye.
    As I kiss and hug you and
    give my soft embrace,
    Please remember always,
    the love upon my face.

    To keep you here forever,
    to the ends of the earth, I'd run,
    But, that could never happen--
    it's a race that cant be won.
    So , for now, I must return you,
    your birthday's almost done,
    Before you go, I want to say,
    "I love you boy, I miss you so,
    Happy Birthday, son"

    I love you Jeffrey
    ~mommy~
  • May 10 2000
    untitled

    It is a dark day.
    A storm is brewing.
    I know, because I smell it in the air
    and I see it in the sky.
    I hear the thunder roar in the distance.
    I can almost taste the salty rain.

    The trees shake violently.
    The branches buckle under vengeful winds.
    The winds whistle and yell at me.
    Nature's fury at her best.
    I fear not, though.

    The ocean is calling me.
    I hear it.
    I head out into the darkness
    to meet her.
    I arrive.
    The waves thunder in front of me and
    besides me.
    They crash, they roar, they yell at me.
    I fear not.

    I welcome the pelting rain.
    It soaks through my skin.
    It washes away the tears
    and makes me forget that they are there.
    I walk for miles.
    Alone.
    I am tired. I can walk no more.
    I feel old. Old beyond my years.
    I stop.
    I face the Ocean and Her Rage.
    I stand there forever...
    and, now, it is my turn to thunder, roar and rage.

    I raise my voice loud and clear.
    I give it all I have.
    It is not enough.
    My voice insignificant.
    No challenge to the sound of nature's fury.
    I know fear.

    I crumble with defeat.
    I close my eyes and drift away.

    The sun breaks through.
    I hear a soft, gentle whisper.
    I look up.
    It is my son.
    He is here!
    He is beautiful!
    His tousled blond hair glimmers in the light.
    His blue eyes pierce my soul.
    He smiles.
    I swoop him up and hold him forever.

    The ocean is calm now.
    The wind gentle.
    Nestled in my bosom, we sit.
    He and I.
    There is nothing to fear.

    The day grows short.
    The light is fading.
    He whispers to me.
    I turn my head and he is gone.
    And I know fear.

    The sky turns dark.
    I sit there forever.
    My head too heavy to lift.
    I hear a whisper.
    I look up.
    The sky is black.
    I turn my head.
    And there, I see, one lonely star.
    And I know , he is there.
    He is there, but he is here.
    In my heart.
    Forever.

  • April 28, 2000
    "Alone"

    I stand upon the jutting rocks that overlook the sea,
    My heart is heavy, my mind is crazed, and I know not what to do.
    Paralyzed, here I stand, looking to the sky,
    Do I stay, or do I go?
    for where will I be free?

    My son is in heaven,
    or so I'm told,
    and I sent him there, you see...
    Angel wings are on his back,
    and free to fly is he.
    Is this really true, My Lord,
    is he really there?
    Are you really holding him,
    and truly free is he?

    Will you ask him, please, My Lord,
    if he's happy there,
    My heart is heavy, my mind is crazed
    and i really need to hear.

    A message to my son I have,
    and here it is, my boy....

    Jeffrey, i did love you so, and always will-- you know.
    I'm sorry for the pain I caused, for I knew not what to do....
    If I could, I'd turn back time,
    and have you here with me,
    But, that power, my dear son,
    has not been granted me.

    The world you live in,
    I do hope,
    is a better place than here,
    For the world I live in,
    you should know,
    is so tough for me...
    Alone I stand, and lonely too,
    for no one does know me.
    In the mirror, I do look,
    and looking back at me,
    is an ugly image
    that I cant bear to see.

    In this world, estranged am I,
    and always have been, too,
    I do not fit in here....or there....
    and know not where to go.
    I'm still standing on those rocks,
    looking towards the sky,
    and I wish for courage,
    to step off towards the sea.

    Jeffrey, you have two sisters, though,
    and a brother, too,
    and though I am no good to them,
    they need me here , you see.

    For now, my son, I must step back,
    to this world I know,
    If you can, and if He's there, ask the Lord to send,
    A sign for me, a gentle hug, and help, to set me free.


  • "Jeffrey"

    The sun shone bright, but our hearts turned gray,
    The day we gave our son away.

    Conceived from love, treasured by us,
    This newborn seed was a PART of us.

    The seed so small, grew so big,
    I felt him move, I felt him kick.

    We had our hopes, we had our dreams,
    A perfect life or so it seemed.

    The seconds ticked by, a bomb was dropped,
    A life was lost , our hopes were squashed.

    We saw our son, so small and innocent,
    Oh, Lord!--Couldnt you see how much he meant?

    So much has changed, so much we've lost,
    Three hearts grow cold, we feel the frost.

    We look to the sky and search for our angel,
    Are you holding his hand Lord--please can you tell.

    There is no answer to our pleas, we sit and cry,
    and wonder why.

    And now he's gone, his soul is free,
    Our newborn son, we named--Jeffrey.

    The sun shone bright, but our hearts turned gray,
    The day we gave our son away.

    We love you, Jeffrey.
    ~Mommy~

  • June 26, 2001
    " A Whisper"

    Tonight I heard a whisper....
    I'm not sure from where it came,
    but loud and clear, I heard it--
    A whisper, just the same.

    The words were softly spoken
    and simply put they were...
    They floated through the air,
    and caused my heart to stir.

    "I LOVE YOU", said the whisper,
    as i sat and cried.
    "I LOVE YOU", said the whisper,
    "my words you can't deny".

    Emotions swept up--by it's wind--
    they open up my heart,
    and the walls that I've erected--
    are slowly torn apart.

    The whisper washes over me,
    and gently soothes my soul,
    It takes away my darkness,
    and patches up the hole.

    Tonight, I heard a whisper,
    and now I know its source--
    It echoes from the heavens...
    Oh -- how powerful its force!


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