A Child Unborn

She died, they said, through act of God,
No rhyme or reason, no how-so,
No purpose, fault, or blame to hold,
I asked them why, they didn't know.

She cannot live, they said, she'll die,
Her future short, and dark, and bleak,
Her tiny beating heart inside
Too small, too fragile, still too weak.

Delay, they said, would cost me dear,
Could rupture, poison, maybe kill,
I cried for her, and cried in fear,
They took her then, against my will.