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Mattering - Your WRITES

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The doctor who
pronounced my
infant daughter
came to me and
my girlfriend and
told us, that
it didn't matter, that
we were young, that
we would have
other children and, that
we would forget about
our dead daughter.

But even as I heard
him pronounce those
insuffiecient and pathetic
words of little comfort
I knew that
he was wrong and that
she would always matter.

Thirty years later
the image of
a dead baby girl,
a small, Black baby
wrapped in white sheets,
still burns in my memory
and my heart, that
she has mattered
every day of my
painful existance,
every day there is
a fateful moment
when she comes into
my consciousness, that
she still matters.


Thanks Ella for urging me to take the time to share with the group


Hi Tristram , I saw the shout outs you have left on my page , I wasn't able to reply you right away , I m sorry. Anyhow , I came on to leave a quick n short message here to tell you , this poem of yours almost make me cry but I can't cry ( not now ) but . . .

I m touched by this poem of yours. Every little life that humans brought in (to the world) , they are so small that we just wanna hold them on our hands n never wanna let go.

I believe in reincarnation , or we actually call "The Next Life". I m no one to ask about your personal life , however , If you do have the second or even third child , she is reunited to you again.

This is a very very good poem , Tristram.

Thank You for sharing your feelings ..

Sending Blessings To You , Tristram

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