Small as a jewel is your little casket,
And you, as my smallest jewel,
Are treasured up to God within it.
I did not give you willingly,
Nor did he snatch you from me.
I rather think the choosing was your own.
Or, perhaps we three had planned together
In some other world,
That you would come and make this hasty call,
Then hurry on,
That you might light the lanterns on the way
So I could find the footing.
But I have forgotten. I think you, too,
Forgot for one brief day–
You tried so hard–
But God remembered;
And then you left me.
I took a comfort in the little clothes
I made so tenderly.
The little petticoat, the dress,
The dainty lace,
The little bonnet
That frames your tiny face.
Your eyes are closed,
And mine are dimmed with tears.
But maybe you can see with better eyes
And know I love you.
All the dreams we dreamed together,
While you were one with me–
These can wait.
I do not count them wasted.
Nor the drops of fresh warm milk
That fall unbidden from my aching breasts,
Like beads of pearl unstrung about your neck,
And caught by your fixed fingers.
These one day
Will be distilled as manna.
This milk that you never tasted
Will satiate your soul,
And life will be fulfilled.
Go then, my little jewel.
Go back to God.
Tell him I feel no bitterness at all.
With my own hands I offer you.
I have a treasure laid up in heaven.
And where my treasure lies,
My heart will follow.
You are my surety laid up with God.
And I will come to you.
I will. I will.
Less Than 1%: Surviving My Stillborn 