Poets Showcase

What moved me the most about this poem:

• The cries; the screams; the shouts; the shrieks.
• The contrast to the Holocaust in my mind's eye.
• The love God has for his unborn creation.

In silence they speak, with no words at all, In silence they scream, the nearer they fall, In silence they shout, knowing the end is near, In silence they shriek, their cries are so loud, For they are the unborn, of which we're not proud.
The seeming masses, they must make in heaven, I believe an angel comes, to take them from the horror, And into the arms, of their loving creator.
He makes them so carefully, in the image of Himself, Sparing his only son's blood, so they might live fully, and experience all, of everything he's made them, to catch them when they fall.
Yet thesse women in herds, in their multitude of misery, Give their babies such pain, of ending their lives, that has not even begun, not letting them breathe, the airs which they're from.
Sending them back to the father, because they find his gift a nuisance, His token of attention is thrown in the trash, Why is everyone seeming so senseless?
So there are many children in heaven, and as they look down, Do they sign in regret, missing their life not begun? Do they weep for their mothers who gave them all up? Do they feel the inexpressible joy of being in heaven? Do they want to lilve life as they were developed to?
All I am sure of, and all that I know, is that they are with God because, not only for my own peace of mind, and definitely not for the mothers, For forever they will suffer, I know there is a season, They had a heartbeat and therefore had life, before the light was snuffed out and their souls took flight.
These children had life, Fashioned lovingly by the Father. If the heart stops beating, and the monitor flatlines, There was life and now silence, A treasure is lost to death, This treasure has a soul.
Maybe an angel grabs their hand as the pain of death rips through them, And gave their young souls wings to take flight, from this misery they strangely knew as life, and fly high through the clouds, to the celestial palace, where they know that they will be accepted and warmly embraced, to the creator they are led, still guided by angels sent from this place, In the arms of their father forever encased, He'll hold them forever and tell them of love.
Copyright1999 by RACHEL WHITTEMORE All rights reserved.