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The Beautiful Before


Poetry for when the "right words" don't form sentences
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3/21/2018

Phoenix

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by Heather Carnaghan

I wish I believed in genies,
in fairy godmothers
and Jesus.

What a beautifully comforting thought

it would be
to picture you
warm, eyes glistening,
cooing in the laps of angels
and rising

from your ash,
a gold feathered phoenix.

I don’t need three wishes
or a thousand prayers of intercession.
I have only one desire
that matters
and no spirit can grant it.



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3/21/2018

Hiccups

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by Heather Carnaghan

I whispered your name to the same trees
that already knew it well.
They wept acorn tears
and clung to their last leaves

defiantly remembering the spring
as I angrily failed to find the words
that could conjure the sound of your last heartbeat.

I told each squirrel to relay my love
should they find you in the wood.
One stared curiously at me
and, for one lingering moment,
we shared the thought of you.


I released a stone inked with “two months”
onto the undisturbed silt
below the surface of the lake.
It’s tiny engraved fox
will soon be covered with ice
and, like your hiccups,
only I will ever know it was there.



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3/21/2018

Smell of the Forest

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by Heather Carnaghan

Missing you is a physical ache deep in my chest;
It’s a heaviness that bends my spine
and burdens every step.

Is there something deeper,
truer
than “I love you”
that a mother can tell her child?

I love the smell of the forest.
I love the taste of a raspberry

plucked sun-warm from my grandfather’s garden.


But you,
you are a need in my soul
that “I love you” can’t explain.

What words hold in them
every breath I breathe?




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3/21/2018

Sucker Punches

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by Heather Carnaghan

There it is,
the look of recognition

the scan of my body
and the moment she takes in
my shrinking waistline.

She gleefully asks, “Did you have the baby?”
Timidly, I squeak out “Yes”

My nod is too emphatic; it raises alarm in her eyes,
She was born, but
“No”,  my head sways left and right,
less adamantly
more confused

She never came home with me that day
Her eyebrow raises and I doubt my answer
Should she count less than babies who do?
My head bobbles, my gut contracts.

My limbs itch to run or fight.
I race to the nearest locking door

so I can catch my breath
before the next
“How many children do you have?”
“Where’s the baby?”
or “We’re expecting!”



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3/21/2018

Whispered

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by Heather Carnaghan

It is no religious miracle
nor medical marvel
that I have survived for one month
with a piece of my heart
forever gone.

It is a feat of strength
borrowed from friends
and carried by you.

In my weakest hours
and ugliest of times,
when I had nothing to return,
you held my hand
and whispered, “I love you”.


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3/21/2018

Chocolate Brown

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by Heather Carnaghan

Your chocolate brown crib
so carefully assembled
and covered in the softest bedding
has a flowing ruffle below.

A mint colored blanket
stitched with love
still sits folded in anticipation.

Your name is painted in cheerful script
behind a delicate paper mobile
hung to make you smile as you gaze up at it.

All it does is make me long to know
the color of your sleeping eyes.  
Hazel? Green?
Or chocolate brown like Daddy’s?


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3/21/2018

Due Date

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by Heather Carnaghan

All of the broken promises
of this beautiful
and awful date

are heavy in a place in my heart
where, now exists only stolen hope.


Who I was
and who you would have been
died that day and left me
with all of the parts of motherhood
that the drug of a newborn’s smell subdues.

How cruel it seems
that I also have this love
that is so deep
that I will take all of these awful things
if they are all I am meant to have of you.


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3/21/2018

Nevers & Withouts

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by Heather Carnaghan

My heart has lodged itself
deep in my stomach,

wreaking havoc on other vital organs.

My throat is full,
choked by words I cannot find
and a howl I cannot let escape.

Grief is clawing at my soul
A fierce and frightening beast
that haunts my dreams
and lurks in the shadows
of every waking moment.

Fear surrounds me,
filling  places it never touched before,
of returning to life
of mothering as a ghost,
of all the “nevers” and “withouts”.  



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3/21/2018

Cygnus XI

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by Heather Carnaghan

A hole so vast and so deep
that the dropped stone
never makes the telltale “thunk” as it collides with earth.


An emptiness, infinite like space.
expanding,
ever larger the longer it exists.

It sucks the air from my lungs
and swallows every possibility.

Into the blackness
go her lips and her eyes
her kisses and the things she would see

her tiny fingers
and all they might have held

her perfect feet
and all of the places
we should have gone together.


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3/21/2018

Corpse Color

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by Heather Carnaghan

The day you were born
still and silent
my heart
was shattered
into fragments so sharp
that they pierced
through my whole life
and opened wounds
that will never heal.

I held your tiny hand
and stroked your chubby cheeks.
they grew cold
as my own warmth seeped out of you
and the corpse color
crept over your perfect toes.


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  • Home
  • Our Story
    • Charlotte's Journey
  • Blog
    • Poetry
  • Grief Resources
    • For the Mother
    • For the Father/Partner
    • For the sibling
    • For the Grandparent
    • For Caregivers & Medical Staff
    • How to support a grieving friend
    • Book Club
  • Memorial Planning
    • Components
    • Readings
    • Music
    • Program Templates
    • Other Ways to Remember your baby
    • Financial Assistance
  • Weekend of Kindness
    • Weekend of Kindness 2021
    • PROJECTS WE'RE PROUD OF
    • JOIN THE KINDNESS CREW
    • A FEW KIND IDEAS
  • Wrapped in Love Project
    • Project Wish List
    • Resources for Sewists
    • Project Gallery
    • Donate a Dress
    • Volunteer to Sew