I understand the anguish in losing your child

AND THEN I UNDERSTOOD      

 

She lost her son,

and I was witness

to her anguish

as she wrapped herself

in grief.

I couldn’t help but wonder

if there was an end

to her torment,

as it smothered the spark

that had made

her such a vital person.

Time did see a change,

but she never

got over her loss,

and I failed to understand.

 

Years later

I felt the depth

of her unrelenting pain,

and with it,

came understanding.

I lost my son.

 

2/6/93       Phyllis DeWitt-VanVleck

 

Won “Distinguished Poet” Award = 7/00

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The Ballad of Little Nell

THE BALLAD OF LITTLE NELL

 

Hear my voice upon the wind

Crying, sighing without end

Mother, Father, find me please

Where I lie beneath the trees

 

I chased a rabbit while at play

And then somehow I lost my way

Panic filled my heart with fear

I called to you, you did not hear

 

The night got dark; I could not see

And snow swirled down and covered me

I shivered long, my tears then froze

Feeling left my hands and toes

 

I called once more, and then I slept

Along my body death then crept

And then I heard an angel sing

My soul arose beneath her wing

 

Out in the woods there lies a mound

Waiting there where I’ll be found

The snow will melt some sunny day

You’ll find the child that lost her way

 

Please take me home and bury me

Beneath our weeping willow tree

Plant some flowers near my head

To mark the spot where I lie dead

 

Mother, Father, find me, please

Where I lie beneath the trees

Still my voice upon the wind

So my saga sees an end

 

7/15/99      Phyllis DeWitt-VanVleck

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All the meanings of the color blue

THE COLOR BLUE

 

Blue box that has an open lid

            Blue ribbon peeking out

Blue letters that the ribbon tied

            Hold frequent words of doubt

Blue pages fill her diary

            Blue memories on her mind

Blue tears once filled her broken heart

            For love o’er which she pined

Blue paper, torn and faded now

            Blue words she penned in rhyme

Blue flowers now pressed dry and flat

            Came from a grievous time

Blue shawl that keeps her shoulders warm

            Blue shadows ‘neath her brow

Blue eyes so lively in the past

            Are clouded over now

Blue robe across her aching knees

            Blue clasp in thin white hair

Blue veins in her old wrinkled hands

            That hold the box with care

                  –    –    – 

“Blue isn’t just a pretty hue,”

            She whispered of her past

Then slipped away to death’s blue deep

            The blue box closed, at last

 

12/17/89  –  Phyllis DeWitt VanVleck

 

5’th … Indiana NPD 1990

2’nd … Paw (in Pa) 1991

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