A Feather on the Gale

Ambulance cries ignored, I sped through night,
Each jolt a prayer against the dying moon.
Her screams, a symphony of piercing spite,
My own heart fractured, lost in sorrow's swoon.

In sterile sheets, hope lay still, a ghost,
Where echoes of her laughter used to dance.
Nineteen weeks, a fragile life we'd boast,
Then whispers turned to shrieks, a nightmare trance.

Steel flashed, white coats a blur of frantic haste,
She vanished, whisked through a sterile door.
Then silence, a shroud so thick and vast,
Alone with you, the world outside dismissed.

My son, a gift both cursed and far too chaste,
Lay in my arms, a weight I couldn't pour
My grief onto - This silence, deaf and cold,
My tears refused to stain his downy cheek.

In that still room, where time itself seemed passed,
I understood our solitary tryst.
The emptiness beside me, starkly told
A truth I couldn't face, too raw, too bleak.

Too soon he fled, a feather on the gale,
No earthly breath to stain his perfect skin.
"A blessing," whispered lips that barely veil
The gaping chasm where my world had been.

Was this the future, painted stark and stark?
A father cradling shadows, love in vain?
But then, a glisten, faint as firefly spark,
Your eyes, like pools of starlight, met my pain.

And in that gaze, a bond beyond the grave,
A promise whispered in the hush of night.
Though stars may hold you now, brave little knave,
My love will bridge the abyss, a guiding light.

So sleep, my Thomas, dream of fields of gold,
Where Daddy waits, beneath the endless sky.
This wound may tear, but love will never fold,
And in the starlit sky, we'll dance and fly.