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His big eyes look up at me,
the playfulness is past.
Five small fingers weakly grasp,
this moment will not last.

Weakness, shallow breath,
whispers are his voice.
The only freedom is letting go,
at that we will rejoice.

In his place will forever be,
the clippings of his hair.
We will sit at dinner table,
empty will be his chair.

The sound of his voice,
recorded to fill his place.
Paintings and drawings,
capture the next erased.

A closet full of reminders,
small shoes, small pants, small shirts.
Barely worn at all,
no grass stains or brown dirt.

His smell is in his blanket,
I will hold it to me at night.
I will rock the memory of him,
many times in to the light.

I hold him to my chest,
we quietly wait and cry.
warmth quickly grows cold,
singing his lullaby.

Empty eyes look up at me,
and I stare back at them.
I am not afraid of this,
only of missing him.

Freedom is living life without needing perfection

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The following comments are for "My Special Angel"
by ChristianAlbert

This is such a powerful piece, it actually made me cry! Everything about it is perfect, the format, how it flows, and the content evokes such emotion.......This was amazing!

( Posted by: Eleanor [Member] On: March 13, 2005 )

Re: My Special Angel

When I wrote this poem I cried so hard, this work was not enjoyble to write. I know that the meaning of it is true to my heart and what I wanted to say with it I said.
I would like to be clear that this experience happened to a friend of mine, not to me personally. She is happy that I understand so well.
So many woman have experience the loss of a child, a deepest fear for me. I feel so much respect having been honored to know those women. I feel so blessed that they have sincerely shared such an intense moment of their life with me.

Thank you for reading this peom, and for the feed back.


( Posted by: ChristianAlbert [Member] On: March 13, 2005 )

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