Visiting a Children's Memorial Garden, poetry by Barbara Harris Leonhard at Spillwords.com
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Visiting a Children’s Memorial Garden

Barbara Harris Leonhard·
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Visiting a Children’s Memorial Garden

written by: Barbara Harris Leonhard

@BarbaraLeonhar4

 

Tiny gravestones gently placed
on mounds of raised hopes – dashed.
Angels with infant wings kneel atop
these grand little beds

pillowed by soil wet from tears.
Stuffed bears, backpacks, dolls dressed in lace.
Unopened birthday gifts. Holiday treasures.
Tumbled by wind and storm.

Some babes were twins.
Some never breathed.
Some never cried.
Some never laughed.

Some never reveled in a school day
let out by sudden snow.
Some never made it home from school
one disastrous day at all.

Young ones sheltered
in this garden of woe.
Visited by their parents,
coming to pray and mourn

in summer’s rain. In autumn’s
gust of leaves. In winter’s hail
without fail. And amidst
the newly sprung buds in spring –

Who, God, did this? Why!
Why such sorrow in early light?
Dust to dust at such a young age?
What called me here? A wrong turn?

Or the muffled cries
to come and play?
To tell them stories
of a better day?

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9 Responses

  1. Such a sad poem. The death of a child is one of the saddest things ever – and the line “to tell them stories of a better day” is heartbreaking

    1. Nina, Thank you for commenting. It was so sad to drive by this children’s graveyard on my way to see my mother each time. I visited the graves and took more stuffed toys to place there. I wanted to get a vase for flowers, but the funeral home was going to charge me several hundred dollars if I bought it there. Thank you again for sharing your feelings. Barbara

  2. Thank you, Dagmara K at Spillwords.com! This poem is based on personal experience. Locals know Memorial Cemetary on the Business Loop. There’s a children’s gravesite along side the road. I passed it on my way to see Mom at the Terrace. I stopped to visit the children’s graves with more toys on occasion. Although this poem is based on my personal experience, I intend for it to have universal significance. Child mortality is up for many reasons, such as poverty, disparities in health care for pregnant women, war, and gun violence. May we come to a place of love, inclusion, peace, and forgiveness.

  3. “Pillowed by soil wet from tears” such a beautiful line. It is full of compassion and sadness.
    Parents should never bury their children. It is not how this world was meant to be, but sadly children die for different reasons: illness, starvation, cruelty.
    I will never forget the day I visited Yad Vashem’ children’s section of the Holocaust museum in Israel. I walked in total darkness, holding on to the handrail and looking at the pictures of children killed by the Nazis. The only illumination in the room was from the light behind the displays of faces. Each child was identified by name, date f birth, and place of origin. I cried uncontrollably. The images of these innocent faces still haunt me today.

    1. Etya, I’m grateful you replied with this experience. I wish we could learn from history. I see the same energies rising again, and we can’t allow any reenactments. I could go on and on. I appreciate your replying and sharing this horrific scene. My love and blessings!

  4. oh, Barbara this poem just made me teared up🥺 ..losing a child is one of the most hearbreaking experiences any parent could ever experience. your poem hits home to me as you know i’ve written poems with the same theme.

    the drop lines made this poem even more hurtful..it felt like every line drop is every child losing its battle to breathe for life.

    1. Yes, Mich, I could feel their stories and could tell how loved they still are by their families. Thank you for reading and commenting! ♥️

  5. Hi Barbara, this is beyond sad but beautifully written. Losing a child is unfathomable. Your words go straight to the heart, and then, Why? A plea I ask each time another mass shooting makes the news with the faces of young victims, or when any tragedy occurs and a child loses his/her life.

    1. Thank you so much! This poem went through several drafts. It was difficult to write. I appreciate your sharing your thoughts.

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