Tag Archive | Grief

They were the faces of the future

image

My heart is broken tonight. I do not think it is right, moral, constructive, beneficial, or whatever pitiful reasons are spewed by those who plaster the faces of the innocent lost to hateful war on our television screens, our computers, magazines and newspapers. It’s shameful.

People need to know, I get it. We cannot forget the horrors of war. Report to me of the inconceivable acts man can inflict upon man. Tell me of the innocents lost, of the mothers who will never again hold their children . . . I understand the world needs to know of the atrocities being committed.

We need to feel the loss, sadness, anger, or whatever it is we need to feel for whatever reasons we need to feel it. I don’t really know what we need anymore. This world doesn’t seem capable of learning from the mistakes of the past, we condemn them while we continue to repeat and perfect them.

To see the body of a child, ravished by the unspeakable, should be incomprehensible and yet without respect, their images are shoved before our faces. Those were somebody’s children. Not men or women willingly walking into war, aware of the risks, they were somebody’s children.

There is no honor in using their deaths to show how ugly the enemy is, the young on all sides have been murdered. A mother’s grief should never be exploited, her cries and her tears as she falls to her knees in despair have no right to be broadcast for all to see.

All of the back and forth, hashtag prayers for whatever side your political preferences favor are self-serving. Pray for them all. For us all.

Faces of what should have been the future,
children lost to war, tears of terror-stricken mothers,
images of grief-wrought faces twisted in hopeless despair.
They splash across our screens without warning,
burning themselves into our hearts.
Not to avenge, but to incite, no respect for the lost,
no respect for the left behind.
See this child of our country? See his lifeless eyes staring
into your soul? The blood is on their hands, not our own.
They sacrifice the innocent, casualties of war
dying for political rhetoric and vengeful hate.
Senseless. Selfish. Pathetic.
Children become pawns in the bloody battles of cowards hiding
behind babies, sending them to kill with weapons
to heavy for them to bear, burdens that will bury them.
Sickened by the loss, disgusted by those who see
death and destruction as answers to peace.
Peace means victory to an ignorant beast.
Men without honor, people without purpose, countries without pride.
Mine. Yours. Theirs.
Children are dying while men lament the loss of the battle,
disregarding the lives lain waste to their foolishness.
Online are the faces of their victims, precious children
born into and killed by the vile grudges and grievances of man.
They show them, God help us, they show them.
Their little faces photographed and shared without regard
for the sanctity of who they were or what they may have become.
They deserved better in life, they deserve better still than to be used as
propaganda to perpetuate the purposes of those bent on taking more lives. They were faces that should have been the future.

Crystal R. Cook

Today I kissed an angel

image

This poem was written about a little Angel named Morgan. I never saw him, never held him, never heard his voice, but he will always be in my heart. The words were written after a heartbreakingly beautiful phone call I received from my mother.

I could tell she’d been crying by the crack in her voice, her day had taken a direction she’d not expected, it led her right to a little angel, an angel soon to be spreading his wings to fly home.

She went to the hospital that day, for what I can’t recall, but she was there because she was meant to be. As she walked down a hallway, she could hear crying, something within her heart made her turn toward that sound of sorrow.

She stood before an open door, one of countless many, and looked upon a family, her heart could feel their pain. Surrounded by those who loved him was a little boy, Morgan. He was dying. She somehow became a part of this grieving family for a brief moment in time. Little Morgan touched her heart as she held his tiny hand, his family stood in prayer with my mother, a stranger to them, yet they embraced her in that moment.

She sat by Morgan’s bedside and sang to him, her voice filled the room with so much more than song, it brought with it a calm, a moment of respite for a weary family . . . I cannot imagine what it must have felt like to be in that room, beneath the heavy sadness there was a renewed sense of strength and faith. I imagine it would be hard to find beauty during such a time, but they did. Love, compassion, and faith gathered within those walls and wrapped around little Morgan, his family, and my mother, I can’t help but think of beauty when I imagine it.

Today I kissed an angel
I held his broken wings
My voice rang out to little ears
that could not hear me sing

I smiled my best smile
although he could not see
I know inside his precious heart
he was smiling back at me

At first I thought the Lord
chose me to comfort him
as the hope of those he loved
had begun to slowly dim

As I held his little hand
by his bed on bended knee
I caressed his little brow
it was then that he blessed me

He did not speak a word
he lay still and peaceful there
as my tears began to fall
my voice arose in prayer

To look upon the face
of an angel here on earth
to be a part of God’s great work
is a gift of untold worth

I know that every life
serves a purpose great or small
Even the tiniest child
could be here to save us all

A silent piece of me
will never fully understand
I find comfort in the promise
that he’ll rest in God’s own hand

If he takes his twilight breath
before another sun can shine
I will say a prayer of thanks
for I held his hand in mine

Crystal R. Cook

In The company of Angels

I seem to run a cross these words whenever someone needs to hear them, I have learned to never ignore the small voice that gently urges me to share. If this is meant for your heart, I hope it brings some comfort.

image

I know you cannot see me, but I’m hoping you will hear,
the message I am whispering, so softly in your ear.

I know I left too quickly, there wasn’t time to say goodbye,
for when the angels came, I simply had to fly.

I caught a glimpse of Heaven in the twinkling of their eyes,
and I couldn’t help but follow, as they began to rise.

Heaven is so beautiful, how I wish that you were here,
I would hold you close, and softly wipe away your tears.

I’m in the company of angels, for eternity I’ll remain,
free from earthly sorrow, from fear and doubt and pain.

In the company of angels, I will stand and wait,
I’ll be keeping watch, near Heavens pearly gate.

I know the day will come, I will see you enter in,
as angels sing in praise, we’ll be together once again.

I love you oh so much, please try not to cry,
I have the softest wings, oh how I love to fly.

Maybe you will feel them, wrapping round you as you sleep,
I will live forever in the memories that you keep.

I am in the company of angels now, please do not despair,
I’ll meet you at the pearly gates, I’ll be waiting there . . .

Crystal R. Cook