No Graves

No Graves Those fraught with tears the dead unborn have plight. Young spirits yearning praying seeking…day. Graves? None for unborn stripped of every right. Energized by life…microscopic sight. Dreams yet unborn still hope to find their stay. Those fraught with tears the dead unborn have plight. Safety in their mothers’ wombs knows not fright. Nor have they had a chance to kneels and pray. Graves? None for unborn stripped of every right. And trust betrayed too often leads to blight. When someone’s mother looses livings way. Those fraught with tears the dead unborn have plight. Without a voice, there is no longer light. A helpless baby’s soul will never play. Graves? None for unborn stripped of every right. Ripped apart before one earthly sight. Silently, without a word to say Those fraught with tears the dead unborn have plight. Graves? None for unborn stripped of every right. © Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen March 15, 2010 Poetic form: Villanelle