Stillbirths, Headstones and Friendships

I wanted to talk about a friend of mine who suffered a stillbirth two years ago. This is the same friend that I wrote a poem for at the time to commemorate the little life that never was (the poem is at the bottom of this post). Two years on, and she still cannot afford to buy her own son an inscribed headstone for his place of rest.

My partner, Alastair, is running a pledge (details of which are below in the purple box). If you're in the UK, and you feel moved by the cause and would like to help, please click below to read the details and sign up -- it just takes 10 friends to donate £10 each.

If you're in the US, or another country, and would like to donate, I'm happy to take some money from you via PayPal (I can convert the currency, just contact me for PayPal details) -- even better, get ten people to donate $10.00 -- don't worry about conversion rates, I will make up the difference.

If the total amount of monies received for this pledge exceeds £1000, it will be donated to Bliss.org.uk, the special care baby charity, provides vital support and care to premature and sick babies across the UK.

The deadline for this pledge is the 17th September, 2011 (what would have been his second birthday).



Joshua

A rosebud mouth,
a button nose
and eyes as big as
Heaven's stars,
is how I saw you
that first time,
that last time,
when Pluto clouded Mars,
and all the planets
shrank with grief
as my tears burned scars
into my face
while death's embrace
hid yours.

That warm Spring day
in seven years
sees you laughing
as you ride
the see-saw in
the grassy park.
Ear to ear,
grinning wide
you're chasing leaves
along the breeze,
playing seek and hide,
and I catch a trace
of that place
that will never be.

Cradled by the
crescent moon
I hope you see
my dreams of you
sitting by the
pot of gold,
singing silver,
beaming blue,
riding rainbows home
to roost and in this scene,
I ride them too,
hand in hand
we surf the land
bending time.

Cradled in my
mother's arms,
I know you'll wait
until the dawn
when I can carry
once again
your soul
to be reborn
into this life or
then, the next.
Together we will mourn
no longer,
breathing stronger
'til we're free.

~ © Dianna Hardy ~
written for Joshua Russell and his mother, in 2009.
Please ask permission if you would like to re-post this poem.