Petals for a Placenta
After the waves recede,
(and the wind lends its howl
to the mourners)
people still have to be laid
into the final sleep,
as the newly homeless
take shelter in the hills-under trees.
Some retreat to the mountains
to retrieve their runaway souls..
or cancel themselves from pain and loss all together.
The storm has deemed even the fish homeless
blown them far into the heart of the land
where they slash about muddy pools
gulping for the last pearls of oxygen.
Long after the big show boats slog away
close the curtain on the glittery stage show
After the masses and media lose interest,
she'll still be there helping birth babes..
The one they call mamma-miracle
the one with god in the eyes
and Jesus in her palms
who sprinkles petals over placenta
leaving the cord of life connected for just a little while longer
so the newborn has a calm-soothing transition
not one of harshness and shock...
She whispers to the newborn
and prays for the still born
that things will be fine...
as its spirit sheds the last earthly tether
crossing over to the other side
and makes for the painless
brightness of heaven...
(Even as another loved one is laid to rest)
long after the storm and the last ship have left,
as bodies rot on the breast plate of God
the islanders still believe that God, the sun
and the petite one, they call mother miracle,
will rise everyday to keep them warm
bring their babies into the world
and somehow hold their frayed prayers together.
Copyright © Anthony Biaanco | Year Posted 2020
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