A poem written during the 911 anniversary that talks about dealing with profound loss, the death of a child.
From Denny: Lately, I've been running across a lot of news stories talking about loss, in particular the loss of a child, and suddenly a rash of news stories about miscarriage, not exactly something you see talked about in the news. It also happens to be the anniversary of the dreaded 911 when terrorists cruelly killed thousands of loving people from all over the world in the New York City Twin Towers bombing, impacting families for generations to come.
So, it hit me that too many people are dealing with loss right now, the kind of loss that is severe disappointment to put it mildly. Miscarriage is often a lonely burden of which it seems other women in particular choose to be insensitive and do not seem to sympathize - unless it has happened to them. You can read as far back as the Old Testament Bible where women with children jeered and taunted women unable to bear children.
People think the accounts in the Bible are just story-telling. Well, there is a reason for those stories left for us down through the ages: do we recognize ourselves as one of the characters in those stories? If we do, what are we going to do about it?
A lot of people have asked me over the years how to deal with deep emotional and spiritual pain as it just seems too unbearable. My answer has always been the same: grieve, grieve some more, force yourself to keep moving forward, but most of all, keep looking to the future for the revelation of why your Life Plan took this turn. If you ask the question, you recieve the answer: eventually, which can take years before you are ready to see and accept the answer. You will be pleasantly surprised that what you thought was such a terrible thing turned out to be a small sacrifice for how you ended up benefiting humanity.
Can I tell you that this poem was a tough write? Too personal, I suppose... Many families are dealing with loss right now by the loss of a loved one be it a child, a parent, a spouse. Divorce is a similiar lonely burden like miscarriage, something others do not seem to fully understand any better than one or both of the divorced people.
This poem was written on this sorrowful anniversary of 911 to echo the pain and sadness of those suffering personal loss. This poem is also a personal recounting of my own struggle with loss after loss, way too many miscarriages that wrecked my physical health for a number of years until I figured out how to heal myself.
This is also the true story of an adult special child who instantly was drawn to my rocking chair I had purchased, stained and varnished, then prayed lots of love into for rocking my own children who never came (or so I thought at the time).
This special child wanted to take the rocker back to their home center for all the other kids to share with her. She said a lot of the parents had quit coming to visit their children and the kids were lonely.
What had happened is that the parents were dead. Their closest relatives lived several states away from the state facility. My heart went out to her and instantly I agreed to give her the rocker. Plus, in my heart I knew there was something unusual and wonderful transpiring here as God was at work through this special child.
I went to visit that facility months later after the gift of the rocker and witnessed first hand the supreme satisfaction of the adult residents. The caretakers were quick to tell me all the stories associated with the rocker and that it seemed to have special magical powers, instantly calming and soothing whoever sat in it and rocked. Many of the residents suffered terrible seizures because of brain injuries yet were calmed when placed in the rocker, recovering faster than usual from their episodes. Many of the adult special children suffered from severe epilepsy and other issues so this rocker was a healer too. I could not ask for anything better to learn.
Fifteen years later the revelation came of my niche in Life and it was quite a surprise, a pleasant surprise! You may find your purpose in Life is far larger than you ever intended or expected too.
Rock, My Children
When disappointment creeps near
After dreams are shattered
Our hearts mourn slowly
Yearning for what never lived
When others seem so happy
After we experience loss
Our hearts grieve longer
Yearning for what they enjoy
When we cannot understand
After chasing dream to dream
Our hearts flutter in hope
Yearning to finally succeed
When sitting in the lonely rocker
After the child has died
Our hearts sink deeper down
Yearning to feel their tiny presence
When rocking ourselves to sleep
After crying away our dream
Our hearts seek to mend us
Yearning to heal seared wounds
When our thoughts turn to children
After grieving months, even years
Our hearts feel hopelessly stuck
Yearning to know the why of Life’s Plan
When we feel like pieces of ourselves
After striving to move forward in Time
Our hearts still cry for what was not
Yearning to find meaning in the loss
When other women judge us harshly
After deciding we must not want children
Our hearts grieve, hurting worse
Yearning to know sisterly compassion
When one day fifteen years later our answer came
After drowning far too long in sadness
Our hearts look out to find a seeking child
Yearning, pointing to our rocker with delight
When the rocker is claimed wonderfully as their own
After touching, feeling the embedded loving prayers
Our hearts leap up to gather this new child close
Yearning to know where to send the unused Love
The rocker finally found a new home much needed
For years the lonely rocker filled with smiling special children
Adult special children cuddled gladly in its reassuring embrace
Renewed by a mother’s love so strong thy sighed with safe content
When the Never Mothers’ own children were lost
After Life dealt one seemingly cruel hand
Our hearts soon mended in Love and purpose
Yearning to see revealed the truth of what was meant to be
Mothers’ Love was not meant to be confined to a few
Mothers’ Love is eternally sent out to all those in need
Life’s Plan was to embrace the children of the world
Rock, my children
Rock in the knowing
You are well loved
Rock, My Children…
Denny Lyon
Copyright 11 September 2009
All Rights Reserved
* * * Check out the Complete Poem List for more selections.
Photo Credits
Angel child photo from
StumbleUpon, no attribution available
Spring time pregnant photo by Carnaval King 08 @ flickr
Baby feet photo by Sabrina Campagna @ flickr
Black heart photo from StumbleUpon, no attribution available
Single shadowed rocking chair photo by blmurch @ flickr
Eye spy photo by lepiaf.geo @ flickr
Collage woman photo by DerrickT @ flickr
Hands on black background photo by batega @ flickr
Child reading in rocker photo by Lori Greig @ flickr
Special Olympics T-shirt slogan photo by Dru Bloomfield - At Home in Scottsdale @ flickr
Row of rockering chairs photo by Felixe @ flickr
Umbrellas in the rain photo by 1Happysnapper (is catching up slowly) @ flickr
Marine Lioness in Iraq photo by Yankee November @ flickr - ASH SHAFIYAH, IRAQ (12 November 2004) - LCpl. Brandy L. Guerrero, a radio operator assigned to the Communications Detachment, Marine Expeditionary Unit (MEU) Service Support Group 11, 11th MEU (Special Operations Capable), gives a kiss to an Iraqi baby waiting to be examined during a Humanitarian Assistance Operation (HAO) in the village of Ash Shafiyah, Iraq. The HAO provided medical and dental treatment to more than 115 Iraqis. (Since I come from a 100 year tradition of Marines on one side of the family, all proud Democrats, I just had to include this awesome photo of nurturing from a warrior, so much like many of my tough, crusty but nurturing male warrior mentors when I was growing up.)
Adult and child hands photo by marcuzzo @ flickr
JOY photo by alicepopkorn @ flickr
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