The Occurrence Poem by Patrick Villareal

Emotionless; The Angel of Death stares deeply into her soul and mind
Waiting for the perfect moment, ready to take what has declined
Watching as people come and go; enter and leave the white-colored room
Watching the broken women as she struggles to carry new life in her ever so weakining womb
Gazing as her caretakers do what they can
Filling her with meds and housing her, they carry out their medical plan
Carry it pit while her priest and family pray along side her
Hoping that it could somehow prevent the worst that was about to occur
As the day passes, the light begins to be expelled from the room
Allowing the darkness to invade, taking over every corner, it consumes
Time draws near'er as the Angel hovers over, making not a sound or any movement
Knowing that the expectant women would be far from any miracle or improvement
Looking into her with its blackend eyes
Failing to aknowledge or care for the womens hopeless prayers or cries
As the clock stikes midnight the Angel quickly proceeds
Reaching into her womb and taking the new life, giving her no time for any knowledge or pleads
It was over as quickly as it began
Leaving the broken and fragile women to weep and now question any divine plan