Poetry from and for the Bereaved Heart
poems by Shanara A Schmidt

A Broken Heart Still Beats

The phone was ringing but I was sleeping and dreaming of another place.
The phone was ringing and I stirred and began to swim to the surface of time.
The phone was ringing I reached out and fumbled and bumped and touched.
The phone was ringing and the words said, “your daughter...I’m sorry, your daughter....”
and my world stopped as I heard the voice on the line.

My head was in vertigo and my mind was screaming for truth
My stomach began to erupt and I became violently ill.
My legs and arms ceased to respond to my needs
And my heart fragmented into thousands of shards?
and I was bleeding from my soul and time stood still.

No, No...you have dialed the wrong number, I am sure of it.
No, No...it must be another daughter belonging to another mother, this is a fact.
No, No...I just touched her and heard her respond to my call, just a while ago
No, No...this is not happening, this is an error and not funny at all, make it stop.
God you have betrayed me, don’t do this, bring her back!

That was yesterday and This is Today and Time heals NOTHING, it’s a lie.
That was yesterday and she has no Tomorrow, no laughter, no anger, no tears.
That was yesterday and I have too many Tomorrow’s without her...and a broken heart.
That was yesterday or a year ago, or 15 years ?.. no, she would have been 32 today.
It’s foggy in my mind, I hear those words and I don’t want to count the years.

My life does not want to move forward, knowing she won't be here to share a part of it.
I do not want to experience new days and find new hobbies to entertain me.
Getting up in the morning, overwhelms me on her birthdays that come and go now
And nobody calls to tell me that they remember anymore, or that they miss her...only me, only me.
.... a Broken Heart still Beats, the anguish never leaves.....and now she is only
alive inside the deepest part of me.

For Michelle Renee Adair....5/7/98


I remember when you were born, on a cold and empty November morn...
Nobody wanted you ‘cept me... and God.. .and Brother, he made three.
And I remember your fear of stormy nights and tears you shed while I held you tight.
“Don’t leave me Momma..” you begged of me, ....and you were only a baby of three.

(Oh God! How I hate what you’ve done to me!)

I remember your blond sparce hair...
and a towel on your head
as a make believe wig...
“Momma, why won’t my hair grow..?
I want to be
pretty. No one likes me....”
Yes they did sis, they loved you... but
you didn’t know.... they really did.
You were how old? Six.. or maybe seven...

(Someone tell me... is there really a heaven?)

I remember the day
you wrecked your bike with your sister in tow...
you broke your front tooth
and wouldn’t open your mouth.....
so it wouldn’t show. “Oh momma...
I can’t smile, fix it momma...
they laugh at me”
And you were probably eight or nine,
not so long ago in time.

(God hold me tight! I want to go back, right now, tonight!)

I remember when you turned twelve, anxious to be thirteen....
“Momma, I’m gonna be a teenager soon, I’m all grown up...
can I wear makeup now”?
And I stood there watching the baby leave my child.

(You know what? They’re wrong..... the pain doesn’t go away in a little while!)

I remember you sitting on the foot of my bed
and me watching you chew on your nails
aware of something tense going on...you with your lowered head.
And you said...”Mom, I think I need to be on the pill”

And my heart fell to my shoes.
And the look in your eyes said it all
The hour of truth is in my face.
Adulthood is making it’s call.

(Hey world...you didn’t prepare me for this at all!)

I remember when you learned to drive...
with me hanging on by your side
and you were nervous and scared and so very proud
as you cruised around laughing and singing...
waving to the kids in your crowd.
And I let my thoughts speed forward in time
as parents sometime do...picturing your future in my mind

(Hello out there.....who says fate is never unkind?)

I remember when death poisoned our world that day
Life gave me a child
death took her away...
it was 2 a.m. in the morning...
and all was quite and still
I remember the sound of the call....
and a voice on the line
told the story..... she’s not coming home after all.
Just a moment ago you said “Bye mom.. be home soon”
and the sound of your voice is still lingering
here in the hall outside of my room.

(So death runs the world huh? He should have just taken her from my womb!)


To Touch You

You won’t ever really know
about the me
who cares for you…..
you reached deep into my soul
and touched me
and left me
and never knew.

And I lay here knowing
my heart
betrayed my mind….
and it scares me
and I want you
to touch me
another time….

I thought all was
locked up tight
when I left my heart
where was my guard
when you came by? (asleep)
My guard is make of store.

Just who are you
that I should feel
your pain,
your tears,
your sorrow………?

“A man” you said.......
“Please, stay with me,
at least until tomorrow.”

And I left you
and I ran
for my soul
was scattered about…
being cool,
being strong,
being careful……. Not to shout.

I’m not going to let you know
how you came into me
and how you held me
in your depth
and how I ran away….

But if you let me
touch you
even one more time.
I’ll thank you
and I’ll tell you in the echoes
of my mind…



Shanara A Schmidt
Poetry is my window to the world; it is where I live. In the physical world I live in the Cascade mountains in the rain forest of Washington state. Nothing else matters. Heartache is an unforgiving
master. 5/5/84. I am changed forever. My life will not have innocence again. I am published at Poetry.com and The Woodland/Kalama Community News and currently am working on publishing a yearly calendar reflecting 12 of my poems.

Loss  | Vashon | Services | Art | Poetry | Store | Contact

© 1999 KotaPress All rights reserved.  ISSN 1534-1410 www.KotaPress.com
Please direct comments regarding this web site to webmaster@KotaPress.com