The last poem in Federico Garcia Lorca's Collected Poems is "Cradle Song for Mercedes, in Death." Speaking to one who cannot hear, imagining a continuing, moses-like voyage through mists and days, Lorca gives dignity and humanity to the tragedy of stillbirth. I read this often and think of my own departed beloved Gertrude.
Cradle Song for Mercedes, in Death
We can see you even now, asleep,
your wooden boat along the shore.
White princess of never,
sleep in the dark night.
Body of earth and snow,
sleep in the dawn, sleep!
You wander off, asleep,
your misty boat of dream along the shore.
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