Babies Unborn
I raise my voice and rage a fight
for little children trashed and thrown.
Sweet little coos and burps never heard,
the printed mittens never sewn.
These tiny children wanted to play,
and be held and cradled so near.
To hear Mommy say,” I cherish you”,
and lullabies to wipe dark night’s fear.
Their marble eyes never touched the sun,
never touched a rubber ducky in soapy arms.
Never had a chance to shriek those circus smiles,
or twiddle Grandpa’s warm violin thumbs .
Their tiny breaths chopped in a moment,
with pierce of the sharp metal they expired.
Were they able to shout silent screams?
Or trapped in a cocoon where they can’t hide.
Their pink little fingers stopped squirming,
Heart beats blocked fading black and blue,
The luster of many decades of unlived joy gone.
Is this the most convenient thing to do?
And there go more of abrupt conceptions,
Unborn babies are gifts from God to behold.
The love for children has no need for shame, for guilt
As news of birth is the greatest wonder ever told.
...... ........ .
Contest of Scribe Marlon: Unborn Babies Dream
By nette onclaud
Copyright © Nette Onclaud | Year Posted 2011
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