My babe turned blue.
We called. They came with badges, boxes, more.
I kneeled beside my ash-gray babe,
laid still upon the floor.
The sheriff introduced himself
and other county men,
for all the local officers
were mourning Shinners then.
He'd died. My babe, he breathed again.
Somehow, I'd never thought
that daily, some are working jobs
so hand in hand with God.
I shuddered- through my broken soul
came wisps of man's divine--
He gives himself for someone else,
for little ones like mine.
They heal, protect, give hope, give life.
They do their work like Him.
While some are given chances,
others are giving them.
It broke and healed my mother's soul--
I could not save my son.
But when we called, they came.
They came...
to save my little one.
Sweet Erica, I had no idea this had happened! Your poem is beautifully poignant. Thank you for sharing. I love you!
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