What It's About

TRIBEWORK is about consuming the process of life, the journey, together.

Wednesday, August 6, 2014

Ode to Our Ailing One


Tiny little fingers and wiggly little toes,
Why this tiny life will die
Only God really knows,
His body is so active,
In his mother’s cosy womb,
He has no idea at this time,
Of his impending doom.
We cannot tell you why our child,
We do not know what to say,
But our love for you will always remain,
Through our every night and day.
If you were to live,
We’d love you so very much,
And you would love us too,
We’d treasure every single touch.
With each day that passes,
Knowing now this very news,
To have to say goodbye,
We will all know what it’s like to lose.
So surreal to know you move right now,
As if the promise of life were real,
But we must ready ourselves,
For the loss and grief we’ll feel.
I watch now as my wife,
Reclines and rests and sighs,
Neither of us can deny,
We will need to ready our goodbyes.
We find it a bit too real just now,
As we think back only 36 days,
That was when life changed,
And our joy became a haze.
We do believe in the power of God,
And a miracle worker he can be,
For nothing’s impossible for the Lord,
And wouldn’t we like to see!
But our realism kicks in,
When the reality hits us in the heart,
Before we really knew it,
The process of grieving would start.
I think it helps to write this ode,
It helps to ponder the grief,
To touch the very emotions,
That one day might bring us relief.
I look at my wife and marvel,
She’s God’s ultimate in design,
She carries our beautiful child,
And a world of treasures are mine.
Every child’s a miracle,
Of this there can’t be a doubt,
But that our little baby can’t be,
Hits us with a clout.
* “His” is used generically; sounds so much better than “their.”
© 2014 S. J. Wickham.

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