Angels don't die

Angels don't die

This poem is about casting crowns, 
not for the lyrics that kept me a float, 
because there was no good good father in the words I spoke. 
This poem, 
is about the girl that wore the crown upon a throne of happy,
that was a crowd, 
that made me proud,

"You bring joy to those whose hearts are broken,"

words that clung to my voice in the songs I sung, 
that night.
I held an angel in my hands,
the darkness around I was in a blur you see this baby she had my eyes.

Her smile a soothing wave,
the itch of butterflies in my tummy right now exactly the way I felt, 
that day, 
I held her, 
for the first time she smiled. 
I still remember that day, 
that I pulled down an angel to call her my own, 
before, I felt like a world full of pain, but He never let my righteous tears fall to the ground in vein, 
so He gifted me a love to call my own, 
before I was embraced by darkness because I was alone. 
I felt the same way three months later, 
I'd hold on to my girl so that she too wouldn't let go. 
I'd felt lonely, 
but not lonely enough to ignore that she was still here with me, 
with us. 
I'd hoped for waves, 
to sweep over me, 
an ocean of pain, 
and sooth the truth painlessly through unwanting lips. 
I lay her in pink, 
I like to believe she loved that,
because she'd smiled when I did.

It's been a year today, 
though it feels like yesterday when I saw her smile, 
she was only three months old. 
I made myself believe that what I heard each night, 
were the incessant pour of rain drops hitting the ground,
and not the bitter tears I'd she'd for my child. 
I'd wondered to myself if she thought about me too, 
I wanted for her to smile like the sun rises to keep me warm. 
For her to see me grow more into myself, 
and to hold her sisters hand again. 
She, 
that would glow a little more each time she'd say "baby sister phiri".
They'd laugh together, 
at each other, 
in moments I still remember clearly.
I love her sister, 
and I still bleed love for her too now,
In a way, 
I'm thankful to her really, 
for being my alpha, 
my queen, 
my princess, 
my child, 
my baby, 
that morning we named her Chelsea-Nyasha.



31/10/18✅

Get your Kindle copy on Amazon https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07QW1B6P8

Comments

  1. Chisala; this is a beautiful poem. Some of us have a quick human experience. Others, longer. Our heartbreak over the loss of a baby helps us eventually see that this is one experience leading to the next experience, this life bit. Hugs.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thanks so much, I appreciate your words and your time 🙏.

      Delete
  2. Thank you Chisala
    This is beautiful ❤️
    I miss my baby Chelsea
    This poem brings so much comfort

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. You're very welcome Sekayi. I really appreciate you helping with a lot of my writing over the past month.

      Delete

Post a Comment

Good reads