Twenty six years ago, my wife and I experienced stillbirth at 48 weeks….what a shock that was. How did it happen? Only God knows…I have written about it from many angels over many years. A recent attempt at capturing that horrendous drama in a literary way.
NO LITTLE LIPS
no little lips to suckle pert nipples,
no tiny head full-breasted resting,
braille raised areole stupidly stippled:
pointless now emotional investing.
love-leeched lines, so unwitting,
senseless, night-bedding soaked:
milk drip mocks, no longer befitting;
unblessed – strangled prayers spoke.
long after midnight, starkly alone,
absent hero-husband blithely snoring,
only to God her flayed pain groans:
silent-still baby, powerful goring.
knees buckled on cold, cold floor,
head sunken on tear-wetted arms,
shaken, whip-stripped to very core –
unblessed her umbilical *tharms.
pathos prayer written, so apt,
read with sob-shaken diction,
rugged heart not handicapped:
faith-utterance vanquished friction.
no more tears, no more damn dying,
death banished by heavenly hope;
no baptism, no needed qualifying:
belief balanced on tense tightrope.