• Skip to primary navigation
  • Skip to main content
garden of the sleeping angels

Garden of the Sleeping Angels

An Angel in the Book of Life...

  • Home
  • Our Story
    • Our Story
    • Our Angels
  • Add Your Angel
  • Events
  • Gallery
  • Recitations
    • Poetry
    • Quotations
  • Posts
  • Resources
  • Contact
  • Donate
    • Donate
    • Volunteer

Poetry

Words with Special Meaning

by Peggy Stoks, RN

Too many of you have passed through my hands
Over the years
Passing, passing, paths briefly crossing
On your way from here to there
Your brief little lives woven together for a purpose
Only our Creator shall know
And we can only guess at
If we can see past the pain to do any guessing at all
But I know, sweet little ones, your lives did have purpose
As did your deaths
I rest in that; I trust in that
All the while tears stream down my face
And I, too, ask
“Why must this be so?”
So I pause for a time to hold you, to admire you,
To love you for a moment as if you were my own
I press a little Kiss upon your brow
And say a prayer
Filled with sorrow for how your family will miss yo
And how the world will never know you
Enough! I tell myself
Don’t do this anymore!
But I will
Yes, I must
Because, amidst the suffering
There is a peace
A calm, hushed stillness
that I cannot explain
Slowly and gently my troubled heart is soothed
Until I am restored
And I am ready
For the next one of you to pass through my hands

Mother of a Still Born

Lovingly written by Kelly Moore

Although my child's spirit was not in her body when she was born,
my beautiful child still was born.
Still was born into a loving family.
Still was born into the hearts of many.
Still was born into the Kingdom of God.
Don't shed any tears for me, her mother, unless they are tears of joy.
I am happy. My gain completely outweighs any loss I am feeling.
I have gained a beautiful daughter named Jaden whose spirit is alive and well.
Any loss I have is that of hopes, dreams and expectations of this world
all of which are of my mind and not tangible,
Unlike the very real daughter I have in Heaven, my fourth child.
Someone told me that God operates in the present, not the past or future and
what is real is in the present.
When I feel my empty womb I do not think about what could have been on earth
but of what is already in Heaven.
The time we will be apart will be like the blink of an eye compared to the
eternity we will spend together in Heaven and eventually on the "new earth"
again, so when you think of me or Jaden, rejoice!
We are rejoicing!
Jaden will never know hurt or sorrow or sin.
Her purpose on earth was completed while still in my womb.
I do not feel like my child's life was stolen from me by disease or by Satan.
I do not feel like my hopes and dreams are shattered but that they are
fulfilled, just in a different way.
My hopes and dreams for the future are held in our eternity together.
Her life is complete.
God says..."It is finished"

The Stone

by Jessica Watson

The best way I can describe grieving over a child as the years go by is to say it’s similar to carrying a stone in your pocket.

When you walk, the stone brushes against your skin. You feel it. You always feel it. But depending on the way you stand or the way your body moves, the smooth edges might barely graze your body.

Sometimes you lean the wrong way or you turn too quickly and a sharp edge pokes you. Your eyes water and you rub your wound but you have to keep going because not everyone knows about your stone or if they do, they don’t realize it can still bring this much pain.

There are days you are simply happy now, smiling comes easy and you laugh without thinking. You slap your leg during that laughter and you feel your stone and aren’t sure whether you should be laughing still. The stone still hurts.

Once in a while you can’t take your hand off that stone. You run it over your fingers and roll it in your palm and are so preoccupied by its weight, you forget things like your car keys and home address. You try to leave it alone but you just can’t. You want to take a nap but it’s been so many years since you’ve called in “sad” you’re not sure anyone would understand anymore or if they ever did.

But most days you can take your hand in and out of your pocket, feel your stone and even smile at its unwavering presence. You’ve accepted this stone as your own, crossing your hands over it, saying “mine” as children do.

You rest more peacefully than you once did, you’ve learned to move forward the best you can. Some days you want to show the world what a beautiful memory you’re holding. But most days you twirl it through your fingers, smile, and look to the sky. You squeeze your hands together and hope you are living in a way that honors the missing piece you carry, until your arms are full again.

Copyright © 2025 · Garden of the Sleeping Angels · Log in