The toys look on
Alone and afraid
Playmate lost
In diseases haste
A distant stare
To faraway place
A child is lost
To Heavens gate.
Parents who
Now distraught
Have to listen
To religious talk
To thank a God
All kind and good
In mysterious ways
A cross of wood.
Blasphemy stands
With broken heart
A trail of tears
A path now cursed
Life without
A child adored
On religion
They closed the doors.
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Author:
nephilim56 ( Norman Dickson) (
Offline) - Published: July 20th, 2026 03:34
- Comment from author about the poem: A difficult write and a terrible subject, the loss of a child and a rejection of faith
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 3
- Users favorite of this poem: sorenbarrett
Offline)
Comments1
Our beliefs sculpted by outcomes we ascribe to them. Imposing our values on a universe we choose to believe what we understand. A most mind provoking write Norman. It happens all too often that we feel that we know what is best, fair or should be and demand it of the universe. When it does not happen we no longer believe in the universe. A fave
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