Stillborn

Grieving mother’s cries of desolation ring to haunt unhearing ears
Fragile, delicate, beautiful, yet tinged black with half reproach
Injustice grandiose, the body dead before the mind was born
Lived long enough to feel pain - violence

Soul torn out through chest from oxygen-starved brain
First cry should sound but stifled by a deadly silence
The lifeline into mother held round, tight, the swollen throat
Violence in innocence

Contemplation, grief unfurled, pay penance for some sin
So great to incur such pain, injustice high in heaven
What bitter twisted angels must be, to seek grave retribution
Violence in perfection

And of the mother violated by the corpse she bore unknowing
The loving bond already formed now broken, torn, like heart
The rampant torment welling up inside a gaping hole in chest
Violence in body

And of the father, unable to understand his own feelings or those of his love
Red eyes dulled, vacant stare breaks as he
Screams at the sky “Why did he die? What God brought this upon us?”
Violence in spirit

And violence in all that is human and more
Violence is the working of the planet- our green whore
To exploit and to tarnish
Is the pain
We feel, when nature reclaims loved ones’ bodies
Unjust? When we rape her and scar her and stain her
And leave her broken, hollow shell to burn