"Mother of life
Mother of death
here is a spirit so new
that the gates of life and death
are just an archway in his dancing ground.
He has danced his way back to you.
His passage is easy
but mine is hard.
I wanted to hold his living flesh
and feel his soft breath and his heartbeat.
I nortured him in my body
I would have fed him from my breast
I would have cared for him
and watched his first steps
and listened for his voice.
No other child that may come to me
will ever be what he would have been.
Nothing, nobody will ever replace him.
Whatever healing I may find,
this loss will always be a part of me.
Bless my womb
which has the power to create life and death.
Bless my arms
that would have embraced him.
Bless my hands that would have lifted him.
Bless my heart that grives."
(I first read this poem in Sarah Speake's book