Sometimes the pain of losing someone is not something I can ever relay in poetry, in paintings, media, song, or even in prayer, although I try. “Likewise, the Spirit helps us in our weakness. For we do not know what to pray as we ought, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groanings too deep for words.” (Thank you Romans 8:26). The pain of losing a child before you are ever able to hold them is a pain felt so deep in your core, you cannot ever separate yourself from it.

NO ABUSE CAN PREPARE YOU FOR THE GRIEF OF LOSS

I knew the verses from Isaiah that told me “when you pass through the waters I will be with you, and through the rivers they will no overwhelm you; when you walk through the fire you shall not be burned, and the flame shall not consume you” (Is. 43:2-3 ESV) but I lived a life in complete denial of that truth. My miscarriages were a pain I wasn’t prepared to face. No abuse could have prepared me for the grief, pain, and despair of loss.

God never stopped pursing me through every poor decision I made amid that grief. Maybe what I was afraid to admit is that sometimes God allows suffering. I’m grateful to the friends who sat with me through it all and my faithful and endearing husband. It was in that season that I learned what suffering can produce when you know the Lord. Suffering can be a producer- a producer of endurance. Endurance through suffering produces character which leads to hope (thank you Romans 5:3-5). Suffering actually leads to hope, but that doesn’t mean hope itself takes away pain.

Pain. We all experience it, but so did Christ. The Broken Way by Ann Voskamp is a beautiful and tender introduction to the truth that suffering draws us nearer to the Lord and opens us up to a deeper healing than any “mountain top” moment can. The only thing that can survive suffering, grief, pain, heartache, loneliness, depression, and hopelessness is our dear Christ. Every pain I can feel he felt in the fullest. Hopelessness is a horribly scary place to be, and after my first miscarriage I was knocking on that door. Thankfully, Christ stepped in and never left. He prepared my heart for future suffering through the valley of that grief.

“I Lost Poetry” Poem

This is a poem I wrote as I emerged out of that darkness caused by depression. This is a poem I wrote as I ruffled my feathers out from under the weight of grief, stretched my poetic muscles once more, and began writing again. “Somewhere between life and death, I lost poetry. Somewhere between a thought and a whisper, I found it again.” This poem is my heart processing the journey through my first miscarriage, and the emergence into the light once more.

I Lost Poetry

Somewhere between growing older and forgetting to get off my phone,
I lost my poetry.
I forgot about birds so big that they carry continents,
With heartbeats like earthquakes.
I forgot about dancing freckles on nose tips
And tips on fingers itching for the pen.
Somewhere between heartache an busy,
I lost my poetry.
I forgot about the breeze and how it likes to tickle tree leaves,
I forgot about the oaks,
but more importantly,
Their roots that I wish could also ground me.
Somewhere between authentic and duty,
I lost my poetry.
I forgot to taste your touch with my goosebumps
And answer back with thirsty fingertips.
I forgot to listen to my heart and its pounding on my chest,
Begging me to just breathe.
Somewhere between our positive test and quick death
I lost my poetry.
Somewhere between life’s possibilities and the bleeding,
The cramping,
The losing,
I lost my poetry.
Somewhere between the heartache,
Jealousy,
and rage,
Between the doctors visits and facebook posts,
Showers and siblings,
Announcements and their happy endings,
I gave up, I lost my poetry.
Somewhere among my pain and Your truth
I let lies become my crutches
And jealousy my suture.
I traded in healing for consuming darkness.
And as I wrapped myself up somewhere between angry and lost,
I screamed at You
“Where were You?”
As these ink drippings scratched onto paper
You gently whispered back,
“I was waiting in your poetry,
Wrapped up into every beautiful thing you have to say.
Release every pain into every line
And send them flying off of pages
Carrying with them the weight you’re holding onto.”
Somewhere between life and death
I lost my poetry.
Somewhere between a thought and a whisper,
I found it again.