Lament of Promise

My poem, "Lament of Promise," I liken to Edvard Munch's painting, "The Scream," expressed in words. My poem speaks of deep guttural pain arising from one's torn soul experiencing the worst loss possible that of a child. This poem carries much sorrow & was written in reaction to the loss of my son, Whitner, 4 1/2 years ago. It ends with the contemplation & prospect of hope on the horizon. The You in the poem is God for only He can transform this pain into hope for things to come. 
I pray my sentiments resonant with those experiencing the pain of loss & bereavement assuring them that they are not alone & that the future can carry with it a new dawn of hope, even the possibility of blessing.

Lament of Promise

My broken heart goes on beating. 
My breath is not ceasing.
The sadness looms and hovers near--
a dash away, a moment's fear.


The shadow creeps from within
arising in the emptiness
where you once were, but dwell no more.


The memories languish laced
in my passing thoughts
echoing through my mind.


Timelessness hangs with me
swinging on the moment
where I think you still exist.


The dewy mist fills my eyes
with saltless tears of sorrow
emerging from the heart's deepest chamber.


A look, a face, a warm embrace
brings the remembrance of what once was,
but never now to be.


There is consolation
found in the touch and image of a hazy, foggy dream, 
though that vision fades as a vapor
lost to the dawn's faint light and a red bird's call.


I wait for our unanticipated meeting again,
not to be missed--
my heart pines with longing
and yearns for days gone missing.


Muffled cries with liquid prayers
mourn in quiet desperation
surrounded by the black cloak of darkness.


The quiver of morning glimmers
to give a glimpse of hope
to find only a soft whisper.


But, from sorrow may spring a joyful song. 
A secret silver lining may be submerged within the sadness.


Only You can transform
to the new birth
of a different time.


A separate reality
on the crimson horizon
rises from the dust of ashes
to a new day.


It is a mystery.

At last, a lament of promise lingers,
patiently to be awakened
and to be known.


- Rhonda Milner


"Blessed are those who mourn, 
for they will be comforted.."
Mathew 5:4