• by Anthony Weeg

    -

    "Help! Help! Can anyone hear me?

    This isn't the right time! I'm not yet ready!

    No! Not in the plastic bag! I can't breath here!

    Mother, can you hear me? I am dying here!"

    -

    I was so snug in that little corner of mine.

    That place where I thought I would spend the time

    Growing, kicking, feeling your warm embrace,

    In my little corner where you promised safety and space.

    -

    My little thoughts have pictured out a stunning view,

    Of me, squinting, opening my eyes and finally seeing you.

    And I would see how beautiful you are, just like in my dream.

    And how our faces look so similar, so it would seem.

    -

    Just three more months, mother, and I'll be in your arms.

    I'll be loved, cared, protected from sickness and harm.

    I'll wake up in the morning, and you'll be wearing your smile.

    Just three more months, mother. I've been waiting for quite a while.

    -

    I was so snug in that little corner of mine.

    That place where I thought I would spend the time.

    Growing, kicking, feeling your warm... poison?

    In came a cloud of death as it attempts a strangling notion.

    -

    My little limbs, so feeble, still tries to cling me on

    But the poisonous haze brought me to an oblivion.

    Then those metal claws snatch me away from my dream.

    I guess there's nothing left to do but scream:

    -

    "Help! Help! Can anyone hear me?

    This isn't the right time! I'm not yet ready!

    No! Not in the plastic bag! I can't breath here!

    Mother, can you hear me? I am dying here!"



    "Every day, 3,500 babies are giving out their first and last screams of deafening silence."