Free Verse, Poetry by Sarah

Whispering Wind 

Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie, Sunday Confessionals: Secrets

By Sarah

I’m not a lady who thinks
all that glitters is gold
So, I don’t believe
everything I’m told.

For I learnt long ago
Words have two meanings,
And you best be sure of
the way that they’re leaning.

We all seek heaven
For the here and the now
But sometimes we miss
The way, and the how.

When I look to the left
See my spirit is leaving,
I must change my path
Despite my heart grieving.

For though I wish to shine
only white light,
I know of my dreams.
I know of what might.

There are those who watch,
And those who do,
and the smoke screen is all
to distinguish the two.

None of us are innocent.
None of us are pure.
We each play our part,
of that I am sure.

And as my transgressions float
Across whispering wind,
They remind me of all
The ways…

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Free Verse, Poetry by Sarah

You Never

You never got to fully develop your little body.
But I can picture every detail of your perfectly formed features
As clearly as if you were before me.

You never got to wriggle and squirm in my belly.
But I can still feel you.
A hollowness inside that cannot be filled.

You never got to know my touch or arms holding you tight,
But I caress the memory of you with love,
Hugging my pillow at night, wishing it was you.

You never got to breathe and fill your tiny lungs.
But I take deep breaths to soothe the ache in my heart.
Sighing, for what should have been.

You never got to hear my voice or know me as your mother.
But I speak to you often and the person in the mirror
Wears traces of you, etched in the lines of her face and on the curve of her lips.

You never got to experience happiness, joy, or excitement.
But I lived there during the twelve weeks you were with me.
A brief interlude that was over before it could truly begin.

You never got to experience sadness, loss, or fear
But I know that if you had, I would have always
Picked you up, held you near, and comforted you.

You never got to see your potential fulfilled,
But I dream of the ‘what ifs’ and alternate realities
All the endless possibilities, never realised.

You never got to cry out loud or shed any tears,
But I have shed enough for two lifetimes.
Maybe more.

The scar upon my soul
Is the only proof I have
That you ever even existed.

You will forever be my baby,
Never a toddler, child, teenager, or adult.
The scale of injustice tips me over the edge sometimes.

But in the end, the balance is always maintained.
For everything you never did, I have done for you.
You are gone little one, but never, ever forgotten.

By Sarah ©2022

Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie, Story Swap #2

Originally written November 24, 2012. The due date of my lost baby.
Scribblings by Sarah

Holiday Mass

‘T’would seem a most unlikely fiction. But most assuredly, the hotdog was to blame.

Occasional gurgles and disembodied squeals punctuated the cavernous space of the archaic church, as the bishop tried to cope (unsuccessfully) with his churning guts. He bravely continued to deliver his sermon, yet clearly lacked his trademark enthusiasm.

Beads of sweat trickled slowly down his forehead. He closed his eyes in reverence, aware of the scale of what was to come. This was the moment that myth, became reality.

It is said on that day, those in the pews bore witness to a most extraordinary holiday mass indeed.

By Sarah ©2022

Wordle #279