A big sister remembers

My oldest daughter wrote this on October 1, 2011.  I just came across it on her Facebook page recently and thought I'd share it here.  She was only 12 when we lost Elise.  As the years go on, the loss of her little sister affects her more and more...


Needless to say, yesterday was a rough day. For a lot of reasons. And of course, sitting in drama, someone decides to read this as a monologue. Literally brought tears to my eyes.

Elizabeth Childers

DUST of my dust,
And dust with my dust,
O, child who died as you entered the world,
Dead with my death!
Not knowing Breath, though you tried so hard,         
With a heart that beat when you lived with me,
And stopped when you left me for Life.
It is well, my child. For you never traveled
The long, long way that begins with school days,
When little fingers blur under the tears   
That fall on the crooked letters.
And the earliest wound, when a little mate
Leaves you alone for another;
And sickness, and the face of Fear by the bed;
The death of a father or mother;  
 Or shame for them, or poverty;
The maiden sorrow of school days ended;
And eyeless Nature that makes you drink
From the cup of Love, though you know it’s poisoned;
To whom would your flower-face have been lifted?  
 Botanist, weakling? Cry of what blood to yours?—
Pure or foul, for it makes no matter,
It’s blood that calls to our blood.
And then your children—oh, what might they be?
And what your sorrow? Child! Child!   
Death is better than Life!


I don't think anyone will understand the meaning of that monologue, I don't even think the girl reading it knew what it was about. And hey, maybe its not even about what I think its about, but isn't that the beauty of poetry?