(For unborn brothers and sisters)
And, the wind has brought
Yet another grievous thought,
Thinking of the tiny babe
With no proper burial place...
Unknown, unnamed
Tortured and betrayed...
Instead of being a cherished fruit
The helpless babe
Came to be a tortured slave...
Instead of being tenderly embraced in arms
Had known the horror and gruesomeness
Of her mother's crimes...
Mutilated and desecrated
The precious babe
Who has not found a welcoming place
Unwelcome in her mother's heart
Found untimely, merciless death
Treated and disposed of as a thing
With her inestimable soul within...
A refuse heap as her burial place
Without seeing her mother's face...
Found no earthly, warm place
With a forgotten - battered face...
In her short time
Had known only
Other's brutal rejection and crime...
And, the wind has brought
Yet another too disturbing thought...
Dorothy Kardas, Psy.D. Th.D.
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/in-the-hands-of-the-pitiless/
