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~ Poetry ~

!!!PLEASE READ!!!
On 3/15/03 I went to another infant loss site & found one of my *original* poems has been taken & CHANGED by another person. That poem was written by ME while lying in bed struggling with lack of sleep before Taylor's 2nd birthday:(

My poetry comes FROM THE DEEPEST DEPTHS OF MY HEART & if my words bring you comfort, I don't mind your using/sharing them. HOwever, PLEASE at least credit me for what was written for MY child & not change a few words & tack "Xxxxx" on the end... I am honored you like my poetry but this is MY HEART & MY DEEPEST inner thoughts some have chopped up & called their OWN:(

I have always been VERY open with sharing ANYTHING to help others get through this trauma, but I DO NOT like someone to change my words to theirs & call the work their own!

You need to realize there *ARE* copyright laws & my original poetry IS COPYRIGHT!

This is a collection of poetry that was either sent to me or written by my children or myself. Please e-mail me if you know who wrote those with "author unknown" so that I can credit them and ask permission to share their work on this website. Those with authors are copyright. Thanks!

~ I was Eleven ~

Morning sunlight interrupted my night's slumber
To an April morning with much hope and anticipation.
Mother had left during the night while I slept peacefully
With out a worry.
She had left no trace of her leave, but a small note inscribed with her own hopes and wishes.

I was eleven

Excitement took over myself. Thoughts of a baby brother had swamped my mind with new hopes and dreams.
I was told that my, MY baby brother was born, but I was all who smiled?

I was eleven

Motionless I stood. Told by family.
I would not listen to what they had to say.
I was cut out from this world, in the void that was compressing my emotions.
I wouldn't listen, I wouldn't believe, I wouldn't cry...

I was eleven

I saw my mother, exhausted, struggling with what I myself, had been struggling with since morning.
No emotions.
A cloud had seemed to follow all whom shared the same blood as I... except one.
My baby brother, crying with such voice, so full of life... how can this happen??

I was eleven

I stood beside my new brother, frightened; yet comforted.
Touching the babies fore head, gently caressing his delicate newborn skin.
I took his tiny hand into mine observing his fragile fingers.
Brand new fingers, never been used...
I cherished this moment as I stood, shut out from all else that mattered.

I was eleven

I felt the void collapse around me, all pressure released.
I felt the harsh bitter bite of reality.
My father took me as they wheeled my brother away.
I watched, step for step, as my new brother left my grasp...
To never see him so lively again.
The sunny April morning, so full of hopes and dreams for all,
Became enveloped by a cloud that would not stop raining.
I cried.

I was eleven

© Robert Kivisto (age 18)May 2003

We never forget! (6.5 years later, our greif is still acutely present!)

~ Six years ~

Spring has sprung my little one,
… the days are growing long.
The sun is out, the air is warm
Though something, still seems wrong.

For little boys should be outside
Running through the park.
Bouncing balls, & riding bikes
From morning, until dark.

Kite’s are flying, birds are singing
Laughter’s all around
Children playing, dogs a barking
Oh… the joyous sound!

But with the joy, comes sadness too,
as we think of all these days-
the day you came to us…
... and the day you went away.

The day I kissed your crying lips,
and cried out “Oh Lord WHY?”
The day I held you in my arms,
and the day, we said good-bye…

People say that “time will heal”,
But do they really know?
Do they know the depth of pain
It took to let you go?

Did they know my love for you
Lives deep within my soul?
That nothing in this earthly world
Could ever make that go?

It’s hard to spot the joys in life,
While missing you, my dear.
… “bittersweet”, is spring for us
With you no longer here.

© Sharon Kivisto 4/7/03

~ Heavens Party ~

The infant days are past,
And baby boys must grow.
They learn to sit, and then to stand,
Too soon they all let go.

But do they grow in heaven Lord?
If only I could see...
For if they do, my little boy,
Today, is turning three.

In my heart I see him there,
Playing on a cloud.
He's with his little angel friends,
Together they are proud!

Angel cake & white ice-cream,
Is served for all around...
He sits upon, Jesus' lap,
With all His love abound.

They laugh and run, and dance and play,
Amongst a billowy field.
Together there, they hurt no more
...their little hearts are healed.

The tubes and wires, tapes & blisters,
They're no longer there.
No more poking, no more prodding,
Winds of love, blow through his hair.

From infant to this little boy,
How fast the time went by.
Some days it seemed, the world stood still,
At times, it seemed to fly.

Today, as two years past,
Alone, we'll spend in thought.
We'll celebrate a life that was,
And share what all he's taught.

The bond that links us with this child,
Too strong to ever sway.
In our hearts & in our dreams,
He's never far away...

© Sharon Kivisto 2000

Written in memory of Taylor on his 3rd. birthday

~ My Friend ~

Please don't second guess
this broken heart of mine
by saying I'll get over it
in God's almighty time.

Suggest, I ask you not
my "compassion" wasn't there,
for others who'll experience this-
as it just isn't fair!

Don't tell me to be happy,
I've other kids to love,
as they will not replace,
my angel up above.

And please don't tell me
this is for the best,
that God is only taunting me,
and this is just a test.

This is how God does it,
my son was just his "pick".
He's helping our society,
by weeding out the sick.

Or, it's natures way of saying
it's now my time to quit
I shouldn't have another
I'm dying... bit, by bit.

Please, don't try to find a blame,
be it drugs or maybe drink,
I would never do this!
How could you even think?

We're not looking for,
attention or some fame.
God forbid, YOU wear these shoes,
they'd fit you much the same.

Don't think you have the answers.
Be thankful, you don't know!
Where my life has gone too
...you don't want to go!

So please don't try to help me,
figure out the "why's",
of something so repulsive
as when a child dies!

Let there be no limit,
no time my pain should end.
Let me talk, & let me cry,
just be here as my friend.

If I don't care myself,
let me know you do.
When my life is often hopeless,
just lend a hug or two.

And please don't forget him,
my babies life was true.
Above all else, remember him...
It's the greatest gift from you!

© Sharon Kivisto 1997

I have heard *All* of the euphemism's above at one time or another... it's less hurtful to say "I'm sorry", "I'm thinking of you" OR "I won't forget your beautiful child"

~ Petersburg to Sitka
from Sitka to Seattle ~
to a Life

Our littlest baby boy, born 8:20 A.M.,
ready to see things he hasn't seen before.
Of course the nine months he has been in.
Little baby Taylor has had the shortest
life I've expected to see from him.
For the 14 hours & 56 minutes
this is how his life began

His heart was found different
from either reality or cartoon,
his vessels were switched and
different from others.
He was sent to Seattle from his first flight,
and awaiting what the second
would be like

For the eight hours of suffering
and hurting, he was ready.
For the second flight...
a sweet & wonderful flight
to a beautiful, wonderful life in heaven.

© Robert Kivisto (age 11)1997

An 11 y/o siblings grief put into words

~ Missing You ~

I miss you at my breast,
your dark eyes searching mine~
I miss our world together
How you made it shine!

I miss your little fingers,
your tiny little toes~
Our time alone at three A.M.
your little button nose.

I miss you resting in my arms
as did all the rest~
I miss you curled against me
your warmth upon my breast.

I miss you every minute
of every waking day~
your in my heart & in my thoughts
in all I do and say.

I miss the smiles on all of us,
as we would watch you grow~
all the firsts we dreampt about...
Oh~ why'd you have to go?

My love & pain, just churn within
as I seem so out of touch~
With all I have inside of me
I'm missing you so much.

I love you more than life itself
as one day you will see~
for then, my dreams will come alive
and we shall live ~ eternally!

Until then my little lamb,
know that you are loved~
Know that I'm just waiting here,
to meet with you above~

© Sharon Kivisto 1997

~ Taylor ~

I miss my little brother,
his tiny little cries
his little skinny feet
his little button eyes

I miss his little outfit
his tiny little crib
his teenie weenie booties,
his little baby bib.

I miss his little mobile
playing a little song.
I miss his little swing
but now, all that is gone.

But now that he is dead,
there is nothing I can do~
but go out to his grave
and whisper (I love you)

© Kasey Lynn Kivisto (age 10) 1997

This was published with the above poem in a grief newsletter in 1997
The Forgotten ones...
Many times over the past 10.5 months I have felt so consumed in my own grief that I have "forgotten" my surviving children are also still grieving the loss of their baby brother. This week in school during "free choice/writing" my 10 year old daughter Kasey wrote this poem in memory of her baby brother. I love my children with all of my heart, but grief is kind of a "selfish" thing and it consumes your very being. I hope this poem keeps me remembering that my 'other' babies are grieving too. (I never knew until now, that she whispers "I love you" under her breath every time we stand at his grave. Funny... so does her mommy)

~ The Mask ~

I feel as if I'm burried alive
Yet I smile and respond with "Fine, thank you."
I have been appropriatly conditioned, like fine leather
That no one wants to hear the painful truth.

An Essential part of me, a limb
A constituent of my earthly being
Has been violently amputated.
Yet I laugh at the mediocre conversations
A verbal splash in a shallow puddle.
Pretending to be a player of the words
That no longer have meaning.

My heart has been ripped from my bosom
No benevolence granted.
No explaination.
No apologies.
Only cataclysmic pain.
Only agony.
No anesthesia remains, just the bitter pain.
Day to day.

Pretending I fit in
But really I'm a foreigner to this land
An alien language they speak.
And as I attempt to translate the words
Still, they mean nothing to me.

Sequestered in the mask,
They hear not the music I dance too~
Nor the words I speak,
Nor the pain I echo,
Nor the native language of my eyes.
They will never really know me...
Behind the mask.

by: Joanne Cacciatore (c)1997 An exerpt from the book
"Dear Cheyenne"

I relate to this in ways I can never describe

~ My Pain ~

This pain is so intense
Oh... how can this be?
My baby boy has died,
and now, my heart is empty.
Everyone around me
say's it's time to move along~
But I can't seem to go ahead
now that Taylor's gone.

So tell me... how do I get up
and put my feet upon the floor?
When my body is still aching...
clear through~ to it's core?
How can you tell me
that the day is sure to come~
when I will want to live
and my world won't feel so numb?
That I won't feel so followed
by this deep & gloomy cloud~
and, someday I will smile...
or even laugh aloud.
That the laughter I will have
won't be just another act~
my mind will start to work again...
my thoughts more intact.

Nobody really knows~
how deep & bad I hurt.
Nobody can know
...not even Kurt.
I try so hard, to explain
and still, I can't find
a way to express it~
It's... one of a kind.
The indistinguishable term
"consumes my very heart & soul"
is the closest I have come~
to explain this heavy toll...

Will anyone that I know
ever truly understand~
how very hard it is for me
to keep my feet upon this land?
You see, my world revolved
around this little lamb~
I want to hold my little guy
and am waiting till I can.
Oh God... how I miss him,
my beautiful little boy~
so handsome and so perfect
my love and my joy.

© Sharon Kivisto 1997

~ Blessings ~

Standing by the door,
a mother and her friend.
Tears in my eyes~
this pain will never end.
A perfect healthy baby,
sitting in the cart.
Smiles & fun for everyone~
for me~ a broken heart.
I watched the happy mom,
as she proudly showed her friend,
her baby had a tooth~
...I had flowers in my hand.
She continued with her shopping,
her baby at her side.
I had to leave the store~
the tears I couldn't hide.
I quickly drove away,
...the flowers in my hand.
This broken heart will never mend~
I'll never understand.
A mom~ with her baby,
holds such blessings from above.
A smile, a cry, a tooth~
a baby she can love.
I hope she understands,
the blessings Our Lord gave.
...I have these flowers~
and a tiny little grave.

© Sharon Kivisto 1997

Shopping is one of the more painful experiences after the loss of a child

~ The Elephant in the Room ~

There's an elephant in the room.
It is large & squatting~ so it's hard to get around it.
Yet we squeeze by with "How are you?" and "I'm fine".
And a thousand other trivial chatter.
we talk about the weather
We talk about work.
We talk about everything else~
...except the elephant in the room.
We all know it's there.
We are all thinking of the elephant.
It is constantly on our minds.
For, you see~ it is a very big elephant
It has hurt us all.
But we do not talk about the elephant in the room.
Oh please, say his name~
Oh please, say "(Taylor)" again.
Oh please, let's talk about the elephant in the room.
For if we can talk about his death,
Perhaps we can talk about his life...
Can I say "(Taylor)" to you and not have you look away?
For if I cannot, then you are leaving me~
Alone... in a room... with an elephant.

© Terry Kettering

~ Happy Birthday Angel ~

As we wake up in the morning
and your not here to see,
we grasp for some reality...
that our dreams can never be.

We'll bake a cake & buy balloons,
we'll burn a candle too.
We'll play your music, look at pictures
and shed some tears for you.

We'll imagine what the day would bring,
if only you weren't gone.
You'd run and laugh, and jump about,
we'd sing the birthday song.

You should be here today,
excited as can be...
Sifting through the toys and wrap,
bursting forth with glee...

But God had other plans for you,
these plans, we'll never know.
Today, the candle burns,
...with no tiny lips to blow.

We'll do our best to make it through,
this day we meet with dread.
We'll do this all for you, my love...
on this road of grief we tread.

So on this day... my precious son,
You're birthday number two...
your in our hearts and in our thoughts
....as we send our love to you.

© Sharon Kivisto 4/2/99

Written in memory of Taylor on his 2nd. Birthday

~ When a Little Baby Dies ~

When a little baby dies
And the wee form silent lies,
And the little cheeks seem waxen
And the little hands are still,
Then your soul gives way to treason,
And you cry: "O, God, what reason,
O, what justice and what mercy
Have You shown us by Your will?"

"Oh, there are so many here
Of the yellow leaf and sere,
Who are anxious, aye, and ready
To respond unto Your call;
Yet You pass them by unheeding,
And You set our hearts to bleeding!
Oh how bitterly upon us
Do Your vaunted mercies fall!"

Yet some day, in after years,
When Death's angel once more nears,
And the unknown, silent river
Looms as darkly as a pall,
You will hear your baby saying,
"Mamma, come to me, I'm staying
With my arms outstretched to greet you,"
And you'll understand it all.

Edgar Guest
From the book "Rhymes Of Childhood'" ©1924

Another Memorial for Taylor
(Thank you Karen!)

More Pictures
More Thoughts & Letters
Infant Loss Poetry
Almost 6 years later
View Alaska's 2002 CHD Awareness Day Proclamation!!
Are there angels among us? You tell me:)
CHD Awareness Day!
My Brother Timmy's site
My sister Kianna's page
My Brother Rob's page
Kianna's 2002 pictures!
CHD information & support- Requires PAYMENT to join now!
M.I.S.S. Bereaved Parent resources
Supportive Site for Parents and Families of angels
Webrings and Awards

My Favorite Links

My brother Timothy's site
Heart disease & defects
CHD information & support
M.I.S.S. Bereaved Parent resources
Angelfire - Easiest Free Home Pages

A SPECIAL THANK YOU
to
Melissa