For Mums and Dads who lose children.
On the banks of North Para River. 1849.
Joseph Barritt, with his little boy Jo
A horse, a cart – a rising flow,
A flimsy bridge for young little feet –
Rising waters – trying to beat…
A straying horse, a little boy left,
A cap found in water floating,
A three hour search, wet and soaking
A lifeless body – a father bereft.
Near Pewsey Vale Peak. 1896.
Little Clive Barritt riding
With his father Walter,
Little horse – with a leading halter,
No hint of trouble, to cloud their sky –
Dad riding his polo pony,
A beautiful ‘painted’ mare –
Called Butterfly.
A startled pony, threw its rider –
Then pulled right away
From its Butterfly guider,
A little foot caught in a stirrup tight –
A bolting pony, in panic and fright…
A head smashed open –
On some hidden boulder…
A body ridden home,
Across the front
Of Butterfly’s saddle…
Red blood running
Down her white shoulder.
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Mt Crawford Polo Ground. 1902.
Who knows, if they were playing
On opposite teams,
But Leighton Barritt – at seventeen,
Was very much part of Dad’s
Future hopes and dreams!
The match was on, the pace was swift,
In yet another fatal shift,
The boy’s head is hit –
A mortal blow, like a flying brick –
But hard struck – from the business end
Of another polo stick …
They took him to ‘The Glen’
He wasn’t all that sick,
But that night the blood
In his head went thick …
I can hear Walter say
Riding home the next day,
“You know – Butterfly,
I just can’t miss a trick!”
Butterflies are Angels. 2011.
Butterfly children are born and then –
Are taken away from us again…
Butterflies are always, only briefly here,
But give us such beauty,
Wonder, soul – and beautiful cheer.
So if you’re a Butterfly Mum or Dad,
Feeling empty, cheated – or just plain sad,
This poem written is just for you,
The message I would impart?
Butterflies are Angels,
Sent for a very good reason,
For each and every season,
To live and fly, free forever –
In your own – most beautiful heart.
Tim Barritt. 2012.
Earth Angel 181