To Mourn the Unborn

Children is a subject I’ve covered before;
About my longing and urge for more.

I thought it was done and left behind;
But here it is, at the back of my mind.

Teasing with what I desire the most;
Haunting me just like a ghost.

The struggle was hard to understand;
To deny the family we had planned.

I was sure this wasn’t a permanent state;
The burden in fact a constant weight.

The ghost of a child that will never be ours;
My happiness this burden slowly devours.

A corner of my mind is set aside;
Where the ghost floats on the tears I’ve cried.

Lost on the water, not put to rest;
Never to lay upon my chest.

No late night cries or morning feeds;
No wearily meeting its infant needs.

Taking breaths, slow and deep;
I will never watch it fall asleep.

I will never see it grow to be;
A part of our little family.

To bond with its brother, fight and play;
To support each other come what may.

As a ghost in my head, it does not exist;
But as a part of the family, it will be missed.

Feeling so selfish looking at my son;
For greedily wanting more than one.

I love him more than words could explain;
And love will always win against pain.

But the pain is something I have to feel;
The loss of the ghost is harsh and real.

Time moves on, other families grow;
And conflict pulls me to and fro.

The battle between envy and delight;
My enemy is jealousy in this fight.

I don’t blame others, in fact I cherish;
The chance to cuddle a newborn squish.

This internal clash is my own to manage;
My friends will not be collateral damage.

Here I sit with my ghost unborn;
A loved one lost, I need to mourn.

The grieving process will help me mend;
The loss needs resolution, to ascend.

To the ghost there is something I need to share;
I will always love you and always care.

Now, to let you go I ask you please;
Close your eyes and rest in peace.

By Paul Webster