Stillborn

Stillborn

Tiny hands that cannot move
Tiny lungs that cannot breathe
This child should have been its mother's
But Death has claimed the babe

I imagine, as I stare in awe
At the tiny bloody thing that seems
Oddly peaceful in its weeping mother's arms
I imagine that Death holds its soul

And smiles down at this freed soul
Just as its mother sobs
and I imagine the child who knew not what fear was
Smiles back

Mother's tears drip from her face
Mother's blood drips from the child
Death lays an invisible hand on Mother's shoulder
As babe and mother drip

Tiny heart that will not beat
Tiny feet that will not walk
This child could have been its mother's
But Death will raise the babe