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

NASA: http://www.nasa.gov/

ESA: http://www.spacetelescope.org/