We are conceived
and float to an existence
Expected to grow old

Then are returned to the earth
From whence we came
To become one with the forevermore

In between we fall and rise
We laugh and cry
And the lucky ones find love

The paths all differ
Yet is the same road tread
Some as common, some as czar

But I have come to believe
Some souls are just too beautiful
For a mere shell of flesh to hold

That some are borne of the heavens
To ride comets and meteors
Not for our ways to shape and score

For how does one contain
Sunlight and moonbeams
This is what our child was made of

Thus, we come to lay down to sleep
The one who had not the chance to wake
As into this earth we dedicate a star.

dVerse Poets Pub | Open Link Night #233

12 thoughts on “Star

  1. We are a soul who has a body, not a body who has a soul. Your poem is pragmatic, yet tinged with sadness, burying a child iks a torment.

  2. your lovely poem brings to mind a line from don mclean’s song, “vincent”: “this world was never meant for one as beautiful as you.” your sweet child shining among the heavens

  3. We lost a daughter at 7 1/2 weeks old, she was beautiful, for that moment we had her she would simply grasp my finger and look up at me with air hungry grey eyes before catching her star. Your poem makes me think of a quote from Joseph Smith that gave us comfort:

    “I have meditated upon the subject, and asked the question, why it is that infants, innocent children, are taken away from us, especially those that seem to be the most intelligent and interesting. . . . The Lord takes many away even in infancy, that they may escape the envy of man, and the sorrows and evils of this present world; they were too pure, too lovely, to live on earth.”

    we have the words “too pure, too lovely, to live on earth.” on our Sarah’s memorial. Thank you for this poem.

  4. And… we have also mourned miscarriages, had many, and there is not an adequate space in this world to memorialize that loss. “made of moonbeams…” oh I wish every blessing, and a measure of joy in the caress of moonlight for you.

  5. “That some are borne of the heavens
    To ride comets and meteors
    Not for our ways to shape and score”

    Indeed. Some souls cannot be grasped. This is a terribly sad but holy account of loss and peace.

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