There was quiet.
There was stillness.
Light unveiled the
Waste of sea and
The Angels sang for joy.
Here is quiet.
Here is stillness.
The warm placenta
Gives false guarantees.
Bursts a new light
On a poor baby screaming.
Torn flesh lovingly made—
Lovingly made.
Quiet.
The false balloon
Is red and empty.
Hands and limbs—
Yet warm—lie dead.
Buried in a garbage bag.
An Einstein,
A Luther,
A child—
So twisted and broken.
The Angels in Heaven are silent.
Ashley Akari
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/desecration/
