"Wyatt Wayne"

Your mother's grip was fierce,
but I barely felt it.
I kissed her forehead, whispered "I Love You"
and tried not to see the blood.
Then there you were -
being placed in an ugly yellow plastic pan.
My God!
My Son!
Being placed in that hideous plastic thing...
Through my tears I watched
as they transferred you to
yet another plastic container,
this one clear,
a jar,
with a blue cover.

The doctor twisted the cap,
sealing a piece of me in there with you.
Knives pierced my chest.
Oh God such anguish!
I saw you.
I saw you!
My son...

Now, your mother and I embrace,
hanging onto one another for dear life.
Our cries muffled by each others shoulders...
and we mix our tears in your honor.
You are our son.
You will be with us always.
You are beautiful.
You are us.

If only our love could have saved you.
If only my prayers had been answered.
Tell me son, is there a God?
I believe so... but ask him for me please -
ask him why.

Will we see you when our time comes?
Will our souls meet ... somewhere?
Will you tell us the answer then -
that my god will not tell me now -
Why this was allowed to happpen?
Why we were denied you?

Wyatt, if love could have changed things
you would be with us now,
still growing strong in your mother's belly,
with me singing songs to you,
talking to you,
and us loving you with all that we are.

If love was the answer son,
you would want for nothing.
And we would not have these
knives in our chests.

Eternal love is yours.
For ever you are our son.

Barry Wayne Veinotte
07/27/98