Broken
by Rachel Simon
I feel so broken inside
Torn into miniscule pieces
By the lack of your solidity
The barrenness of my arms
Nothing erases the pain of your loss
And day after day
I wish I could go back
back to two years ago
To protect myself from who I am today
Because now, it’s as if I
see with only one eye
breathe with only one lung
feel with only half my heart
I am only half here
I am only half gone
:::
about the poet.
Rachel Simon lost her daughter Shiloh to an umbilical cord accident in October 2008. She created a website in memory of Shiloh: In Memory of our Daughter, and maintains a blog called Our Healing Journey.
Remembering Shiloh today on her second birthday and holding Rachel and her family close.
Showing posts with label Rachel Simon. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Rachel Simon. Show all posts
Thursday, October 28, 2010
Monday, September 13, 2010
Angry Day, Rachel Simon
Angry Day
by Rachel Simon
Today’s an angry day
Today I hate the world
Nothing you say matters
I’ve lost my little girl
I don’t wanna hear your gossip
I don’t wanna hear your problems
Unlike my trials and tribulations
There’s a way for you to solve ‘em
I don’t wanna eat right now
No, I won’t drink that water either
Just let me stew alone for once
To come out of this damn ether
I don’t care that it’s a beautiful day
I don’t wanna walk outside
I just want to lie in my dark room
All I wanna do is hide
It will not be ok
I’m not going to move on
You should think before you talk
‘Cos all your saying’s wrong
I don’t have to give it time
It’s not going to get better
Don’t say she’s in a happier place
You’ve never even met her
It didn’t happen for a reason
There’s nothing learned from this
Don’t you see it’s taking everything
Just to make sure I persist
I didn’t lose a parent or sibling
So don’t compare your loss
For you to claim it is the same
Makes me so damn cross
I didn’t ask your opinion
I don’t care about your feelings
Even though it’s been 10 months
I find myself still reeling
Don’t be mad at me
‘Cos I won’t listen to your crap
I’ve got this constant struggle
To wiggle out of this damn trap
Away with your pregnant belly
Don’t rub your babies in my face
Don’t gloat about your pregnancy
I might put you in your place
I told you I was angry
I warned you from the start
It’s hard to be a childless mother
To live life with a shattered heart
:::
about the piece.
Rachel discusses her piece, "This poem came from that dark place lingering inside of me. It’s a good thing I only let it out constructively! For those reading this who have never experienced the loss of a child, please don’t take it personally. I know I need to live life by making small talk, gossiping, connecting with people, in short, dealing with the facets of everyday life. But there are times, like today, in which it feels too mundane. Enter poetry."
:::
about the poet.
Rachel Simon lost her daughter Shiloh to an umbilical cord accident in October 2008. She created a website in memory of Shiloh: In Memory of our Daughter, and maintains a blog called Our Healing Journey.
by Rachel Simon
Today’s an angry day
Today I hate the world
Nothing you say matters
I’ve lost my little girl
I don’t wanna hear your gossip
I don’t wanna hear your problems
Unlike my trials and tribulations
There’s a way for you to solve ‘em
I don’t wanna eat right now
No, I won’t drink that water either
Just let me stew alone for once
To come out of this damn ether
I don’t care that it’s a beautiful day
I don’t wanna walk outside
I just want to lie in my dark room
All I wanna do is hide
It will not be ok
I’m not going to move on
You should think before you talk
‘Cos all your saying’s wrong
I don’t have to give it time
It’s not going to get better
Don’t say she’s in a happier place
You’ve never even met her
It didn’t happen for a reason
There’s nothing learned from this
Don’t you see it’s taking everything
Just to make sure I persist
I didn’t lose a parent or sibling
So don’t compare your loss
For you to claim it is the same
Makes me so damn cross
I didn’t ask your opinion
I don’t care about your feelings
Even though it’s been 10 months
I find myself still reeling
Don’t be mad at me
‘Cos I won’t listen to your crap
I’ve got this constant struggle
To wiggle out of this damn trap
Away with your pregnant belly
Don’t rub your babies in my face
Don’t gloat about your pregnancy
I might put you in your place
I told you I was angry
I warned you from the start
It’s hard to be a childless mother
To live life with a shattered heart
:::
about the piece.
Rachel discusses her piece, "This poem came from that dark place lingering inside of me. It’s a good thing I only let it out constructively! For those reading this who have never experienced the loss of a child, please don’t take it personally. I know I need to live life by making small talk, gossiping, connecting with people, in short, dealing with the facets of everyday life. But there are times, like today, in which it feels too mundane. Enter poetry."
:::
about the poet.
Rachel Simon lost her daughter Shiloh to an umbilical cord accident in October 2008. She created a website in memory of Shiloh: In Memory of our Daughter, and maintains a blog called Our Healing Journey.
Friday, September 3, 2010
Dweller by Rachel Simon
Dweller
by Rachel Simon
I can’t get over things fast
I like to dwell
To brood over my emotions
My thoughts
I’m a dweller by nature
Mostly, I dwell on my sorrow
My pain
My anger
My occasional hatred
The injustice of it all
Sometimes I also dwell on good things
The way you smelled
Your puffy cheeks
Your piano fingers
The non-existent toenail on your little baby toe
Just like mine
I need to feel the pain
To feel the little joys
To dwell
It makes me feel
Well… human
In a sense it makes me feel
Mortal
:::
about the poet.
Rachel Simon lost her daughter Shiloh to an umbilical cord accident in October 2008. She created a website in memory of Shiloh: In Memory of our Daughter, and maintains a blog called Our Healing Journey.
by Rachel Simon
I can’t get over things fast
I like to dwell
To brood over my emotions
My thoughts
I’m a dweller by nature
Mostly, I dwell on my sorrow
My pain
My anger
My occasional hatred
The injustice of it all
Sometimes I also dwell on good things
The way you smelled
Your puffy cheeks
Your piano fingers
The non-existent toenail on your little baby toe
Just like mine
I need to feel the pain
To feel the little joys
To dwell
It makes me feel
Well… human
In a sense it makes me feel
Mortal
:::
about the poet.
Rachel Simon lost her daughter Shiloh to an umbilical cord accident in October 2008. She created a website in memory of Shiloh: In Memory of our Daughter, and maintains a blog called Our Healing Journey.
Friday, August 27, 2010
Wreckage, Rachel Simon
Wreckage
by Rachel Simon
I’m sifting through the wreckage that is my life
I can’t seem to find what I am looking for
Salvation?
Comfort?
A pain-free existence?
Everything is in jagged pieces
A veritable mess
Almost unrecognizable
There’s nothing to turn to
Nothing to lessen my pain
Nothing to take it away
Your time has come before it has come
Because of this, I am furious
I am holding my breath
Why was I denied my happy ending?
:::
about the poet.
Rachel Simon lost her daughter Shiloh to an umbilical cord accident in October 2008. She created a website in memory of Shiloh: In Memory of our Daughter, and maintains a blog called Our Healing Journey.
by Rachel Simon
I’m sifting through the wreckage that is my life
I can’t seem to find what I am looking for
Salvation?
Comfort?
A pain-free existence?
Everything is in jagged pieces
A veritable mess
Almost unrecognizable
There’s nothing to turn to
Nothing to lessen my pain
Nothing to take it away
Your time has come before it has come
Because of this, I am furious
I am holding my breath
Why was I denied my happy ending?
:::
about the poet.
Rachel Simon lost her daughter Shiloh to an umbilical cord accident in October 2008. She created a website in memory of Shiloh: In Memory of our Daughter, and maintains a blog called Our Healing Journey.
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Shiloh's Poem, Rachel Simon
Shiloh's Poem
by Rachel Simon
No bringing you home from the hospital in your new car seat
No cuddling up with you, no feeling your heat.
No driving you around when you’re cranky and can’t sleep
No cooing, no crying, no, you’ll not make a peep.
No smiling, no crawling, no other milestones
No beach, no ocean, no together skipping stones.
No wrapping you in your blankets, no soothing your cries
No rocking you in your rocking chair, no changing your diaper, no singing lullabies.
No trimming your fine hair or your little baby nails
No Cinderella, no Snow White, no, no fairytales.
No sleeping with you in our bed, nor on my chest
No spitting up, no burping, no putting you to breast.
No kissing your soft cheeks, your tiny nose, your gorgeous face
No changing your nursery because that was meant to be your place.
No putting you in your crib, your bouncer, your swing
No running errands with you in your new baby sling.
No wearing of onesies, undershirts or dresses
No washing your small clothes, no cleaning up your messes.
No Thanksgiving, no Chanukah, and no New Year
No visiting San Diego for your grandparents, aunt and uncles to be near.
No taking you on walks, no showing you off to friends
No more filling out your baby book, to my pain is there no end?
No sitting you on my lap to put on your socks and tie your shoes
Oh g-d, I’d give anything right now to have the true baby blues.
My life has changed for the worse now that you are no longer here
No hope, no purpose, no direction, no cheer.
No, without you Shiloh, our family is just not complete
Living without you is already proving to be no easy feat.
:::
about the poet.
Rachel Simon lost her daughter Shiloh to an umbilical cord accident in October 2008. She created a website in memory of Shiloh: In Memory of our Daughter, and maintains a blog called Our Healing Journey.
by Rachel Simon
No bringing you home from the hospital in your new car seat
No cuddling up with you, no feeling your heat.
No driving you around when you’re cranky and can’t sleep
No cooing, no crying, no, you’ll not make a peep.
No smiling, no crawling, no other milestones
No beach, no ocean, no together skipping stones.
No wrapping you in your blankets, no soothing your cries
No rocking you in your rocking chair, no changing your diaper, no singing lullabies.
No trimming your fine hair or your little baby nails
No Cinderella, no Snow White, no, no fairytales.
No sleeping with you in our bed, nor on my chest
No spitting up, no burping, no putting you to breast.
No kissing your soft cheeks, your tiny nose, your gorgeous face
No changing your nursery because that was meant to be your place.
No putting you in your crib, your bouncer, your swing
No running errands with you in your new baby sling.
No wearing of onesies, undershirts or dresses
No washing your small clothes, no cleaning up your messes.
No Thanksgiving, no Chanukah, and no New Year
No visiting San Diego for your grandparents, aunt and uncles to be near.
No taking you on walks, no showing you off to friends
No more filling out your baby book, to my pain is there no end?
No sitting you on my lap to put on your socks and tie your shoes
Oh g-d, I’d give anything right now to have the true baby blues.
My life has changed for the worse now that you are no longer here
No hope, no purpose, no direction, no cheer.
No, without you Shiloh, our family is just not complete
Living without you is already proving to be no easy feat.
:::
about the poet.
Rachel Simon lost her daughter Shiloh to an umbilical cord accident in October 2008. She created a website in memory of Shiloh: In Memory of our Daughter, and maintains a blog called Our Healing Journey.
Monday, August 9, 2010
The Scarlet Letter, Rachel Simon
The Scarlet Letter
by Rachel Simon
Day number 268
And still no change in the way I feel
Sorrow, numbness, anger, jealousy
Your loss is still so surreal
I feel like I’m going in circles
No end to a tragic start
Living in a shell of myself
Sustained by a broken heart
I may look normal on the outside
But this is just a mask
Inside I’m struggling for my life
Burdened so by this eternal task
And day after day it pains me
That people will not speak your name
Like they could hurt me any more
Their bliss-less ignorance, such a shame
I alone must live with your loss
For the rest of my life, however long
A scarlet letter burned into my chest
However hard, however wrong
But I tell myself over and over
Time will fade my deep scars
That I won’t recognize this profound pain
Described so adeptly in my memoir
Wishful thinking, I think this is
As I’ll always have this reminder
With this scarlet ‘L’ burned into my chest
The truth will never be the kinder
:::
about the poet.
Rachel Simon lost her daughter Shiloh to an umbilical cord accident in October 2008. She created a website in memory of Shiloh: In Memory of our Daughter, and maintains a blog called Our Healing Journey.
by Rachel Simon
Day number 268
And still no change in the way I feel
Sorrow, numbness, anger, jealousy
Your loss is still so surreal
I feel like I’m going in circles
No end to a tragic start
Living in a shell of myself
Sustained by a broken heart
I may look normal on the outside
But this is just a mask
Inside I’m struggling for my life
Burdened so by this eternal task
And day after day it pains me
That people will not speak your name
Like they could hurt me any more
Their bliss-less ignorance, such a shame
I alone must live with your loss
For the rest of my life, however long
A scarlet letter burned into my chest
However hard, however wrong
But I tell myself over and over
Time will fade my deep scars
That I won’t recognize this profound pain
Described so adeptly in my memoir
Wishful thinking, I think this is
As I’ll always have this reminder
With this scarlet ‘L’ burned into my chest
The truth will never be the kinder
:::
about the poet.
Rachel Simon lost her daughter Shiloh to an umbilical cord accident in October 2008. She created a website in memory of Shiloh: In Memory of our Daughter, and maintains a blog called Our Healing Journey.
Thursday, July 22, 2010
The Yin and the Yang of Life, Rachel Simon
The Yin and the Yang of Life
by Rachel Simon
Just like the Yin and the Yang
My emotions are complimentary opposites
My world was so airy
So light when I was pregnant with you
Without you, my world is heavy
Occluded in such darkness
Breathing came so easily to me
Expansion, contraction
Expansion, contraction
But now, breathing is so difficult
Pull, push
Pull, push
I was so rich
So fulfilled to have you in my life
Now I’m so poor
So empty because you are gone
I was moving forward
So dynamic
Now I feel stagnant
Unable to change
But for others, life continues on
Relentless
Because I love you wholeheartedly
Unconditionally
I feel despair
Depression for having lost you
There was so much pleasure
Now only pain
And just like the yin and the yang
Everything that lives
Must die
However early
But in every end
I believe
I pray
There must be a new beginning…
:::
about the poet.
Rachel Simon lost her daughter Shiloh to an umbilical cord accident in October 2008. She created a website in memory of Shiloh: In Memory of our Daughter, and maintains a blog called Our Healing Journey.
by Rachel Simon
Just like the Yin and the Yang
My emotions are complimentary opposites
My world was so airy
So light when I was pregnant with you
Without you, my world is heavy
Occluded in such darkness
Breathing came so easily to me
Expansion, contraction
Expansion, contraction
But now, breathing is so difficult
Pull, push
Pull, push
I was so rich
So fulfilled to have you in my life
Now I’m so poor
So empty because you are gone
I was moving forward
So dynamic
Now I feel stagnant
Unable to change
But for others, life continues on
Relentless
Because I love you wholeheartedly
Unconditionally
I feel despair
Depression for having lost you
There was so much pleasure
Now only pain
And just like the yin and the yang
Everything that lives
Must die
However early
But in every end
I believe
I pray
There must be a new beginning…
:::
about the poet.
Rachel Simon lost her daughter Shiloh to an umbilical cord accident in October 2008. She created a website in memory of Shiloh: In Memory of our Daughter, and maintains a blog called Our Healing Journey.
Monday, July 12, 2010
Flashback, Rachel Simon
Flashback
by Rachel Simon
I flashback.
Disbelief
Chaos
Despair
The confines of a hospital bed
Pain in my abdomen
Exhaustion
Liquid ice draining into my spine
Whispers
Pushing out your lifeless body
Silence
Tears
Isolation
Deep sorrow.
:::
about the poet.
Rachel Simon lost her daughter Shiloh to an umbilical cord accident in October 2008. She created a website in memory of Shiloh: In Memory of our Daughter, and maintains a blog called Our Healing Journey.
by Rachel Simon
I flashback.
Disbelief
Chaos
Despair
The confines of a hospital bed
Pain in my abdomen
Exhaustion
Liquid ice draining into my spine
Whispers
Pushing out your lifeless body
Silence
Tears
Isolation
Deep sorrow.
:::
about the poet.
Rachel Simon lost her daughter Shiloh to an umbilical cord accident in October 2008. She created a website in memory of Shiloh: In Memory of our Daughter, and maintains a blog called Our Healing Journey.
Sunday, July 4, 2010
Words, Rachel Simon
Words
by Rachel Simon
Words fail me
I’m so disappointed in them
They cannot describe
The depths of my sorrow
Which from my heart stems
Everyday I must face
My grief and the world
While armed with no words
To make others understand
Truth and reality unfurled
Isolated from other mothers
I will always be
Stripped naked of my naïveté
Full of fear and doubt
Because the future I cannot foresee
Broken-hearted, empty-souled
Mind and body ravaged
This is now the life I lead
With no language to bear witness
My happiness and hope savaged
-Your mommy
:::
about the poet.
Rachel Simon lost her daughter Shiloh to an umbilical cord accident in October 2008. She created a website in memory of Shiloh: In Memory of our Daughter, and maintains a blog called Our Healing Journey.
by Rachel Simon
Words fail me
I’m so disappointed in them
They cannot describe
The depths of my sorrow
Which from my heart stems
Everyday I must face
My grief and the world
While armed with no words
To make others understand
Truth and reality unfurled
Isolated from other mothers
I will always be
Stripped naked of my naïveté
Full of fear and doubt
Because the future I cannot foresee
Broken-hearted, empty-souled
Mind and body ravaged
This is now the life I lead
With no language to bear witness
My happiness and hope savaged
-Your mommy
:::
about the poet.
Rachel Simon lost her daughter Shiloh to an umbilical cord accident in October 2008. She created a website in memory of Shiloh: In Memory of our Daughter, and maintains a blog called Our Healing Journey.
Saturday, March 13, 2010
With me, Rachel Simon
With me
by Rachel Simon
I always feel you
Every minute of everyday
You’re with me somehow
Every time, a different way
One day you’re an insect
The next, the wind blowing through my hair
Or the fragrant bloom of a gardenia
Sometimes a reflection in my glassware
The flame of a candle nearby lit
A speck of color in daddy’s eye
The cheekiness of our puppy, Bear
A hot, lazy day in mid-July
A rainbow from the hose spray
A ripe tomato in a friend’s garden
A wave under daddy’s surfboard
My healing clay rocks as they harden
I’m able to see you now
Your presence- in a different light
Not only sadness and loss
Now you can bring more delight
And it’s no longer only me
Bringing you into all facets of life
Now your existence is self-sustaining
Present, omnipotent and rife
These frequent reminders of you
Whether au natural or gifted
My once too-dim outlook on life
An iota more, they have lifted
:::
about the poet.
Rachel Simon lost her daughter Shiloh to an umbilical cord accident in October 2008. She created a website in memory of Shiloh: In Memory of our Daughter, and maintains a blog called Our Healing Journey.
by Rachel Simon
I always feel you
Every minute of everyday
You’re with me somehow
Every time, a different way
One day you’re an insect
The next, the wind blowing through my hair
Or the fragrant bloom of a gardenia
Sometimes a reflection in my glassware
The flame of a candle nearby lit
A speck of color in daddy’s eye
The cheekiness of our puppy, Bear
A hot, lazy day in mid-July
A rainbow from the hose spray
A ripe tomato in a friend’s garden
A wave under daddy’s surfboard
My healing clay rocks as they harden
I’m able to see you now
Your presence- in a different light
Not only sadness and loss
Now you can bring more delight
And it’s no longer only me
Bringing you into all facets of life
Now your existence is self-sustaining
Present, omnipotent and rife
These frequent reminders of you
Whether au natural or gifted
My once too-dim outlook on life
An iota more, they have lifted
:::
about the poet.
Rachel Simon lost her daughter Shiloh to an umbilical cord accident in October 2008. She created a website in memory of Shiloh: In Memory of our Daughter, and maintains a blog called Our Healing Journey.
Saturday, February 27, 2010
Unspoken Sisterhood, Rachel Simon
Unspoken Sisterhood
by Rachel Simon
There is an unspoken sisterhood
A group of women with babies born still
Those who’ve made it through
Those who’ve had the will
We are strong, perseverant and determined
That is without a doubt
But we are no longer whole
We’re brokenhearted and empty throughout
We’re driven to find others who can understand our pain
The turn our lives have taken being so unplanned
We’re overwhelmed with confusion and questions
Yes, we’ve been dealt a raw hand
We thought we’d be fulfilled and joyful
Getting little babies to bring home
But in the blink of an eye, we’re empty-handed
Altered paths we’re left to roam
Now we seek the answers to questions unthought-of
Not researching the assumed baby rashes and remedies
With the Internet as our source
Instead we read blog after blog of dead babies
So it’s this way that we learn of each other
Through websites, blogs and notes
Otherwise complete strangers
With an experience of which we cannot gloat
It may sound strange to others
But about our loss we can freely talk
In each other we seek comfort, support, a shoulder on which to cry
You can’t fully comprehend until in our footsteps you walk
It’s like we’ve known one another all of our lives
And we realize there’s only one side to this coin
This is why we are so thankful for each other
But truthfully, this is a sisterhood you never want to join
:::
about the poet.
Rachel Simon lost her daughter Shiloh to an umbilical cord accident in October 2008. She created a website in memory of Shiloh: In Memory of our Daughter, and maintains a blog called Our Healing Journey.
by Rachel Simon
There is an unspoken sisterhood
A group of women with babies born still
Those who’ve made it through
Those who’ve had the will
We are strong, perseverant and determined
That is without a doubt
But we are no longer whole
We’re brokenhearted and empty throughout
We’re driven to find others who can understand our pain
The turn our lives have taken being so unplanned
We’re overwhelmed with confusion and questions
Yes, we’ve been dealt a raw hand
We thought we’d be fulfilled and joyful
Getting little babies to bring home
But in the blink of an eye, we’re empty-handed
Altered paths we’re left to roam
Now we seek the answers to questions unthought-of
Not researching the assumed baby rashes and remedies
With the Internet as our source
Instead we read blog after blog of dead babies
So it’s this way that we learn of each other
Through websites, blogs and notes
Otherwise complete strangers
With an experience of which we cannot gloat
It may sound strange to others
But about our loss we can freely talk
In each other we seek comfort, support, a shoulder on which to cry
You can’t fully comprehend until in our footsteps you walk
It’s like we’ve known one another all of our lives
And we realize there’s only one side to this coin
This is why we are so thankful for each other
But truthfully, this is a sisterhood you never want to join
:::
about the poet.
Rachel Simon lost her daughter Shiloh to an umbilical cord accident in October 2008. She created a website in memory of Shiloh: In Memory of our Daughter, and maintains a blog called Our Healing Journey.
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