Tiny markers gently placed on raised soil.
Little bears, backpacks, and angels with infant wings.
Muffled voices whisper truth from their grand little beds
Pillowed by soil wet from tears.
Gabriel led me there,
Where I placed tiny gifts for these great souls.
Some were twins.
Some never breathed.
Some never cried.
Some never laughed.
Some were ready for a school day
Let out by snow.
Scattered about, little toy soldiers
And dolls dressed in lace.
All tossed about by wind and storm.
All these unopened birthday gifts
And holiday treasures
Clutched by tiny hands.
All were together in this
Special garden of woe
Visited by parents
Coming to pray
Among the new sprung buds in Spring.
Who, God, did this?
Why such sorrow in early light?
What can we see in these early departures?
Who gave me Gabriel to show me this truth
That dust to dust is so young?
Or was it just little cries to come out and play?
Copyright © 2017 Barbara Harris Leonhard
Image: NASA and ESA,, a Hubble Telescope picture of a Galaxy labeled IC335