Perinatal Loss.

On the death of a baby, 9/20/12

Your baby sailed to Jesus,
 He's asleep on that boat? allowing
All that pain, this great grief, unjust,
As if the bandits broke into your ship at sea, sniped your best mates,
Left you alone, no moorings, no bearings, to float to harbor vacant of value,
If you ever arrive, your sea-town asks questions you can't answer about the loss.

The Greatest Piracy is death of the innocent, your long voyage made longer,
Can you turn around and chase and fight the Swindler?  The sea's too big for that,
Sail on, hoping for a home, trusting in the lull that may never end.

The Windless days can drag, the monotony of loss is loud,
Your silence speaks of the ones you can't speak to anymore,
You'll never hear that voice ever and the Voice who calmed Winds is asleep.

You were expecting sleepless nights, sleepless because of the voyage purpose would require it,
But now to be sleepless with no purpose is as heavy as a cargo,

You were expecting crying but not your own, expecting change, but not your own soul's, expecting a beautiful storm, not this drudge,

Keep the question as pinnacle, "Asleep on my boat?"
Ask the why to the windless sky, "Asleep on my boat?"
What kind of king remains, "Asleep on my boat?"

You can't hear crying, only dying, fading, sighing,
"Even the waves and the winds obey me,"
Wanting to hear, hoping to hear,
"He is not dead, but asleep,"
But he's dead.

You get answers, but you're still adrift, and will be for awhile yet,
"Even the waves and the winds obey me,"
And you hope for a wind so you can see it obey,
The one to whom your Love sailed away.