Stillborn
Stillborn
Still dead
Still arms, legs,
And a head
Still eyes open
Spoken
Still ripped from utero
Still time to go
A dream instead
From cells molded
Knees folded
Named like me
Who was she?
And the word stillborn
Dreams torn
Word so bleak
From eyes
Tears leak
In coffins buried
Procession not hurried
For two lives gone
Having never seen dawn
Developed with them
Born with them
Then why me?
Why was I
Determined to be?
To exist and they don’t
To feel and they won’t
I’ve made memories alone
Without them, on my own
Existed into adulthood
Stood on ground -
But oh the sound
I cannot imagine it
My mother screaming
Her voice turned grit
As the doctors and nurses
Worked as it worsens
As it was clear breath
Breath was none
It was clear they had
Only a son.
There lives live
With each word I give
To this paper
Their memory; their lives
Will not taper
Copyright © John Hagan | Year Posted 2022
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