The Child We Almost Knew: A Poem

You came in quietly, softer than prayer,
Before the world could learn to speak your name;
We made a room inside our hearts with care,
Then woke to find the room was not the same.

No cradle waited, rocking in the night,
No tiny socks lay folded in the drawer;
Yet love had entered gently as the light,
And left its trace across the kitchen floor.

We counted days as though they might be kind,
And held our breath for news we hoped would stay;
Then grief came in and altered heart and mind,
And took the little future tucked away.

No lullaby rose softly in the night,
No small warm hand curled tightly round our own;
Yet you remain, a tender, hidden light,
A child we loved, though never fully known.

Some mornings grief is quiet as the rain,
It waits beside the tea at end of day;
Then finds us when the house is calm again,
And folds the light we thought would lead the way.

A date returns, a song, another’s cry,
And suddenly the ache is born anew;
We smile because the world is passing by,
Then turn away to make more room for you.

There are no footprints running through the hall,
No birthday flame for us to guard from air;
But love does not need years to live at all,
It grows where loss has taught the heart to care.

Perhaps no answer waits this side of pain,
No reason strong enough to make this right;
Yet still we gather what the days retain,
Your brief, small dawn, your softly borrowed light.

So rest, beloved, where our prayers have flown,
Past every fear we carried in the womb;
You were not nothing, little one, our own,
You were our love, held close beyond the room.