To an Unborn Child

My child,

You are tiny and unseen,

No more than a handful of breathing, a handful of heartbeats.

Or you were,

For now you lie broken,

Splintered into pieces of breathing, and heartbeats, and shattered laughter.

Your broken life

Is the wreck of 

Another's life, crashing down under fear, and shame, and loneliness.

Does her heart bleed

As does your own?

Does his tremble with doubt, and tears, and pain?

They surely do - 

But they are not alone - 

A nation cries with the anguish of the missing, the grief of many.

I cannot save you.

For you are gone with the others

And I am just a child whose hands are too small to hold a million heartbeats.

But if I could

I'd cup your breath and heartbeats

In my palm, and give you some of my life, and make you whole.

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