Suicide took future pictures of you
So I open the locket of my soul wide.
And share who you were
Not who you will be.
I trace chubby cheeks, as the rhythm
of the rocker sings you to sleep. Breathe
deeply your baby scent.
I squeal with delight at first steps and words.
Bandage scrapes, wipe tears, and kiss bruises.
I listen to life beating hard with
challenges no child should bear,
and ache for God to heal you inside and out.
God, I try to understand why you allowed this unfinished
work of art to be painted into my life.
Today, I have no calls from your college dorm, no
laughter as you burst through the door for Christmas.
No bride on your arm, for me to share funny stories with,
and no grandchildren for me one day to cherish . . .
These are the things I can’t quite release. I long
for them. I had hoped for them. So I open my heart
wider still, until joy paints a new picture into the
empty memories of where you should be.