An empty womb,
A long trail of stretch marks,
Heavy breasts filled with milk and no soul to feed,
A recovering birth canal,
A shedding uterine wall accompanied by a river of blood;
I held his tiny lifeless body in my arms,
I gazed at his minute wrinkled fingers and imagined how having them touch me would have felt,
As I wept,
I silently I wished that I had been granted the opportunity to have his little lips wrapped around my nipple drawing nutritional fluid out of me,
Mother Earth was so cruel she silenced him before I could hear him cry,
Time stood still,
When they told me my birth was still,
I held his tiny, lifeless body in my arms.
There he lies,
My unnamed baby boy,
In a nameless grave,
His presence jotted down in invisible ink,
His existence never to be acknowledged in earth’s history books,
The only earth he ever knew was my womb; his conception and murder site,
There he lies in an unnamed grave.
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