Heaven’s Threads

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Parents yearn for what is lost,

A baby dies – but a few short hours old;

And in a darkened kitchen,

Two women hold each other and cry.

In the midst of raw reality,

When tears scald

And hearts ache,

Your grace holds me together –

Mere threads keeping my broken pieces

From flying apart.

These threads are all I have,

Yet they are spun of iron –

Mighty cords that will not break,

Though they’ve been tested many times.

They are my lifeline –

Precarious, yet never failing,

For You know that I am spent;

I cannot carry the load myself,

So I must let heaven’s threads

Bear the weight of bereavement,

And those tears

Shed in the kitchen that night.

~ Ilana Reimer

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